Harry Potter and the Season of the Heart
by Ice-Tea-1983
Summary: My take on Harry's Sixth year, seventh year, and an epilogue skipping a few years in time. Not HBP or DH compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; I'm a twenty-two year old man, and I'm looking for a woman that – what? This isn't a personal ad? Ship (THE DIRTY WORD WAS REPLACED BY CENSOR)! I got the letters mixed … er … here is the real disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters invented by J.K. Rowling. I have no intention of gaining any money from writing this … where did this coin come from? Hey! Stop throwing money onto the stage! I'll get a lawsuit on my hands! Oh, well … I did at least say I didn't _intend_ on making any money … anyway. This is meant to be an outlet for my overly active imagination – look at the pretty birdies – and a practical way for myself to increase my vocabulary, not to mention set somewhat of an example for others in spellchecking what I know, and asking about what I do not, and correct errors as they are reported. If any grievous error is discovered, please report this to me before you do so to anyone else so I get a chance to correct it. You do this by pressing the "Submit Review" selection in the bottom left hand corner and pressing go next to the scrolling menu. Don't worry, you don't have to be a member of to review my stories – anymore – as it is an open link. However, I do not wish to be bothered by unimportant flaming with no real base. Save your opinions of my works until you are either finished with the story and wish to state how I could improve it, or for your friends and family. Also, I do not wish to be bothered by people that merely wish to ask when I will post the next chapter or story, have real reasons for reviewing, thank you.

PS: this fiction has not been properly proof read, but was released anyway, because for the next two months, I will be unable to work on it, and by then, this will have become an AU story as it starts in sixth year. However, I will, some time after those two months, return to it and fix mistakes, please inform me of any found. Suggestions for improvement will be taken under consideration.

I am aware of the fact that I am borrowing ideas, both directly and through alterations, from others, but at the moment cannot list them due to time, or lack of it.

This story will be in nine chapter, as it appears this thing has trouble uploading more than sixteen thousand words at a time, but be aware that the first four are sixth year, the next are seventh, and the ninth is the epilogue. I am aware of the fact that part of this seems rushed, but it is, as i had less than a month to complete it, homework and University Exams included.

Chapter 01

Sixth Year

In a normal house, on a normal street in a perfectly normal part of Surrey, on a normal and wonderfully warm and sunny day, a teenage boy is sweating as he strains the muscles of his arms and back in rapid series of push ups, while straining his eyes to read the words of the page of the book under his face. This boy is Harry Potter, fifteen years old, soon sixteen, and the ward of his uncle Vernon Dursley and aunt Petunia nèe Evans. Harry lost his parents on a tragic Halloween not long after he had become one year old. The Dursleys has a son about the same age as Harry, a grossly obese boy named Dudley. All the Dursleys dislike Harry, even going as far as to loathe him for things that are well beyond his own control. You see, despite Harry's normal, although shabby and scrawny, appearance; he is nothing of the kind. Harry is in fact a wizard.

Now, one might wonder why a wizard is doing something as menial as push ups when he could easily do a spell while he was reading his book. The answer is; he isn't allowed. Harry is still a wizard-in-training, and as such is not allowed to perform magic out of his school; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If one still wonders about the reason why Harry is doing physical labour, the answer is simple; he is keeping himself occupied, mind and body. Not more than a month earlier, Harry lost his godfather in a fight between himself, his friends and a group of evil wizards and witches calling themselves Death Eaters. As the pain of his loss is still fresh, he decided that occupying himself with simply reading was boring, and occupying simply the body left his mind free to wander, so he combined the two by always carrying with him a book to read while he went on a training regime that only stopped when he dropped dead asleep at night.

Harry Potter, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived due to how he survived his parents' killer, gave in to his aching arms, and instead of stopping his exhausting training, turned over and propped the book on his knees as he started his sit ups.

The door of his small room opened, and a large woman with an impressive moustache for her gender looked over the room from the outside. Harry ignored uncle Vernon's sister as she nearly closed the door on her cast when she closed the door. She had been staying with the Dursleys for nearly two weeks, having tripped over her favourite dog, Ripper, and broken her arm. She had never liked him, and having to spend time in the same house as him while she was "crippled" with a broken arm, which happened to be the arm she holds her drinks with. She normally sets her dog, Ripper, at him when she feels annoyed with him, but Ripper and all her other dogs had to remain at her house under the care of the Major, because aunt Petunia had for one glorious moment put her foot down about having that beast dirty up her clean and beautiful floors. The large woman named Marge had been prone to enter Harry's small room at random times to see that he wasn't making a bomb or something.

The reason why "aunt" Marge was assuming that Harry was making bombs when he was alone; was that the only ones in this neighbourhood that knew of Harry's "freakishness" which his aunt and uncle called it, were the three permanent residents named Dursley, to the rest of the neighbourhood of Privet Drive, and most likely Little Whinging, Harry was a mentally disturbed criminal that was sent away for most of the year to a correctional facility named; St Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Harry fell back onto the floor, his brow sweaty and his stomach aching, his arms limp and his mind trying to memorise the words he had just read.

After a moment, he became aware of his mind drifting from his chosen subject towards more unpleasant things, and sat up, despite the screaming protests of his muscles, picked up his book and went out for a run, while keeping his eyes from bouncing as he read and ran.

On his run, Harry passed Dudley and his gang, he passed old batty Mrs Figg, and the park where a gaggle of children were playing around the solitary functioning swing, taking turns pushing or swinging. Harry could not remember a time when he had been that carefree or innocent, he had always been treated badly by his only remaining family and it was only through a threat by adult wizards that Harry was treated somewhat decently this summer.

As he finished his run, Harry ran out of book to read, and hurried to his room for another book before returning to his training, not bothering to apologise to Dudley as he cut in front of him as he was about to leave his own room.

Harry had already exhausted more than half his library of books, and made smalls notes in the margins when he saw something that needed further exploration. He later wrote these things down in a free moment, and used his other books as cross references. His scribbled notes now numbered enough to compose his own book or compendium of those he had with a few ideas and questions tucked in, and a few assignments he thought of making for the fun of things.

So far in his summer holiday, Harry had not received any mail, either by normal Muggle – which is the word witches and wizards use to categorise non magical folk – means or wizarding means which is by owls. He had only sent letters to the Order of the Phoenix every three days, stating that his relatives were treating him well, and he was being fed. Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, was not all that happy with her master spending so much time ignoring her, and only noticing her when he needed to send his notes. She made her displeasure known by occasionally dropping a dead frog or mouse down Harry's neck, or by nipping at his ear with unnecessary strength.

Harry knew he was being watched by an invisible member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry's headmaster Albus Dumbledore must have made sure of it, after what happened the previous summer, and he probably had doubled his guard as well to make sure he was not unwatched if one of the guards should fall asleep on the job. Harry had been forced to fight for his own and his cousin's life last summer, when a pair of dementors – dark cloaked beings with rotting bodies, sucking the happiness from their environment and if they got the chance, they would devour human souls through a kiss – that had come for him. The reason he had not been helped; was that the wizard that was supposed to be on duty – Mundungus Fletcher, a small time wizarding crook that only dabbles in petty theft and fencing and seems to suffer from mild kleptomania – had gotten wind of some stolen cauldrons, and had gone to get them, leaving Harry alone and unwatched. Harry and Dudley had escaped the two dementors with their souls intact, although uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia had to make extra sure by shaking their son to hear if anything rattled in there.

Their lives came with a price, as Harry had to perform magic out of school to do it, and Harry was summoned before a wizarding court. The Minister for Magic – Cornelius Fudge, a chubby fellow in a pinstriped suit and green bowler, incompetent at best, but much loved anyway – was the judge, and he did not believe that two dementors, who were under their control at a prisoner island called Azkaban, could have possibly strayed away from them without his knowledge, and that Harry had simply claimed this to excuse the use of his magic within the sight of a Muggle. Some members of the court were impressed to learn that Harry could produce a fully corporal Patronus – a being of silver like material, conjured from happy or hopeful thoughts, taking the form of what the conjurer finds the most protective subconsciously to chase away dementors and lethifolds – but that was not what saved him from being sentenced to anything. Albus Dumbledore had stepped in and made a fool out of the Minister, but also acquitting Harry of his charges. There had been a witness to the events, a squib – a child of magical parents that do not possess an ounce of magic themselves, similar to witches or wizards being born of Muggles – named Arabella Figg, or as Harry knew her; Mrs Figg, the old batty woman that had watched him as a child when his family went somewhere. He had not known until the dementor incident that she had any knowledge of the hidden magical world.

Harry paused in his writing to remove the dead frog from his neck, giving his owl an annoyed look.

'I'm sorry for not giving you any attention, Hedwig, but I need to do this, I must be prepared,' he carefully explained, hoping not to earn another dead rodent or amphibian down his neck.

The owl hooted in a manner that could only be interpreted as annoyed, and turned her back on him as she stood in her open cage.

Harry sighed and tossed the frog out the window, earning a satisfying surprised girlish scream from Dudley who must have been skulking about in the garden, trying to smoke somewhere out of aunt Petunia's sight.

What Harry felt the need to prepare for, which was one of the reasons he was reading so much as well, was to fulfil a prophecy made nearly a year before he was born.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …_

Lord Voldemort – original name; Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord of their age, a wizard corrupted by the power of dark magic – had fulfilled part of the prophecy by seeking out Harry of the two choices. Voldemort, being only a half blood – a wizard or witch with either one Muggle parent or Muggle born parent with a magical one – thought that of the two choices; Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, Harry, being a half blood as well, was the biggest threat to his power.

This was how Harry became an orphan, Voldemort had sought him out, and found them in hiding in Godric's Hollow. Harry's parents had put up a fight to keep Harry out of the megalomaniac's hands, and paid the ultimate price. Voldemort had cast the Avada Kedavra – or the killing curse – at Harry, only to have it rebound on the caster, banishing the man's soul from his smouldering being and making him hide in deep and dark forests until such time as he could recover, surviving only by possessing the bodies of rats and snakes. Harry had only gotten a lightning bolt shaped gash on his forehead, which would forever leave a scar.

Harry only learned of the prophecy a month ago, not even an hour after he had seen his godfather – Sirius Black, an escaped convict from Azkaban, unrightfully imprisoned for a crime he had not committed but had no proof in his favour to be acquitted – fall through a veil covering an archway, and not emerge on the other side, Harry was told that Sirius was dead. It was quite an emotional evening, as the only reason why Harry had come to the place of his godfather's death in the first place, was to save him. Through his scar, Harry had an unwilling connection to Voldemort, and Voldemort had discovered this near the end of Harry's fifth year. Harry was in the middle of his History of Magic OWLs – Ordinary Wizarding Level tests – when he fell asleep, which is hardly surprising considering how dry the subject is when one is unmotivated, and had a very realistic dream that told him that Sirius was being held captive by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Harry had tried to find out if this was true, and all signs pointed to it, so he went after his godfather, followed by Harry's two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley – Ron's little sister.

Harry reached for some parchment to replace the full one, and dipped his quill into the inkwell. Runic symbols mixed with regular writing on the finished page, and small numbered illustrations of wand movements decorated the margin. He really wanted to learn as much as he could to fight off Voldemort, and to train wand movements out of school he had to use a pencil in place of the wand, and make sure not to focus too intently on the spell, as he had managed to produce sparks from the sharpened tip of the pencil earlier and did not want another trial for use of magic when he wasn't allowed.

Among his papers was a list of ideas for training. The list title included the abbreviation DA, which meant the Defence Association, or as it was more fondly called; Dumbledore's Army. This association had been started because of the teacher they had for Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts during Harry's fifth year. She was a toad like witch with a sugary taste in clothing, and appallingly sweet voice for such a sour face – or any face for that matter – and had been issued by the Ministry of Magic because the headmaster, professor Dumbledore, had not found a suitable teacher for the position, and the Minister was not a big fan of neither Harry's or Dumbledore at the time, as they were spreading "false rumours" stating that Voldemort had regained his body and was again a threat. Dolores Umbridge, the new teacher, taught nothing but theory, and apart from politely coughing to gain attention, tormenting Harry was one of her favourite past times. In her class, the first thing said, was "Put your wands away and take out your book on chapter -". The DA started as an idea for a study group, but evolved into a resistance to the Minister's regime, sneaking about to learn how to properly duel and defend oneself. Surprisingly enough, to him, Harry had been elected the leader of the group. He had not liked it, but he proved a good teacher, as many of his students went on to have a much easier time of their End of Year Exams in Defence Against the Dark Arts because of his teachings. Although there might not be any need for his teachings this year, Harry thought it best to be prepared, and that it was time to take the proverbial kid gloves off when it came to his training of them. And he was already banned from playing Quidditch – a wizarding sport with three hoops on each end of a pitch, seven players on each team, two balls that fly about to knock players off their brooms, a ball to score through the hoops and a ball to end the game – he needed something to occupy his time.

Harry ignored the sounds of his family as they congregated in the kitchen without calling for him to come down for dinner. They would leave out a plate of something for him, and something to wash it down with. There was no need for him to lose more of his appetite by watching three huge persons gorge themselves on food and one barely nibbling it, as he had a very nauseous feeling in his stomach that came from guilt. Guilt, because he was indirectly the reason for four persons to die; his parents, Cedric Diggory – a fellow student at Hogwarts, in Harry's fourth year they hosted an international school contest, Cedric had died when the trophy turned out to be a trap that took them to a graveyard where Cedric was killed and Harry was used as a tool to return Voldemort to his body – and finally Sirius. He was partially responsible for their deaths, but he was not about to lose anyone else because of his own bumbling incompetence and ignorance. From now on, he was going to be prepared and cautious.

He absently fingered his wand where it was strapped to his wrist with an old sweat band as he rubbed his sore wrists from the cramp he was getting from writing. He so longed to actually perform the magic he was learning through theory.

Outside the light grew dimmer, and Harry's lamp flickered as a signal to change the bulb. Not wanting to inconvenience his family before morning, Harry abandoned his writing in favour of rooting through his trunk until he came upon a closed glass jar with a blazing blue flame within it. He had kept this since his first year, never knowing when he might need it. It had been Hermione that had conjured it during winter in the courtyard to help keep them warm. A Bluebell flame. Gives light and heat, but will never be able to burn anything, and doesn't require oxygen to survive. He placed the jar on top of some books to give him good enough light to read by. It was a feat of good timing, as the light bulb flickered out not a moment later.

With a relieved sigh, Harry returned to his studies, making sure he had memorised every spell, charm, curse, jinx, hex and potion used in all his five years. As he still had some ingredients left, Harry did use some time to test a few of his potions to make sure he knew them. He found it infinitely easier to brew proper potions without Snape hanging over his shoulder while dripping venomously cold snide remarks at him. It was lucky for him that potions' brewing was not strong enough magic to be detected by the Ministry of Magic, or the evidence against him would be damning. So far this summer, all that the Bluebell flame had been used for had been potions' brewing, as it gave no smoke and could be adjusted without any spells, although some prodding with the tip of his wand was needed.

Harry heard the satisfying thud of uncle Vernon stubbing his foot on the steps as he ascended to go to bed. It wouldn't be long until sleep claimed Harry as well, and the nightmares would haunt him. He had practiced clearing his mind of thought before going to bed, and was fairly certain that he had a nice shield around his mind, but the latest string of nightmares weren't sent by Voldemort – or as he was commonly called; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who – the nightmares Harry got were the result of his own guilty conscience, and the result of him repressing his emotions all day. It was his own mind, and he could not protect himself against that.

With weary eyes, Harry looked out the window to see the stars lighting up one by one, like someone prodding holes in the velvet sky with a needle. It was a beautiful sight, but he was hardly in the mood for it, as his eyes drooped. Not bothering to travel the distance of a metre to his bed, Harry knocked off his own glasses before resting his face on his arm as he lay over his desk, falling asleep in mere moments.

* * *

_Harry was running. Behind him, a huge mountain troll was chasing him as they passed through the enlarged corridors of Hogwarts, club raised. Harry entered the first door he came to and closed it, using the small latch on it to lock it, before seeking shelter in one of the toilet stalls. He could hear the door rattling and shaking as the troll was banging on it, trying to defy the flimsy little metal latch._

_The dragon burst through the door, spurting fire all around the room, and Harry had to run again before he became charcoal. He knew the spells that could help him in this situation, and he had the wand, but whenever he tried to touch the wand, he got a shock. Harry ran again, and his speed, despite his increasing effort, was slowing down and the dragon was bearing down on him. The troll's club was about to crack open his skull when he fell from his broom, at rapid speeds towards the Quidditch pitch. The wind was screaming in his ears, the pitch of the scream changed and suddenly a pair of warm and gentle arms encircled him, screaming not to take Harry, but her instead. Harry looked up and saw –_

'Aaaaarghhh!' Harry screamed as he saw a pair of curious eyes not two inches from his own.

Hedwig flapped her wings in indignation, as though saying that she wasn't ugly enough to warrant being screamed at in that manner this early in the morning. She retreated from the stack of books she had perched on to examine him and once more turned her back on him, clearly offended.

'Sorry, girl,' Harry quickly apologised once he regained his breath, 'I didn't mean it as an insult – you startled me that's all.'

Hedwig looked around once before turning back towards the wall with what could be taken as a huff.

'Oh well,' Harry stated, feigning disinterest, rooting in his trunk with one hand, 'I guess I can enjoy this _owl treat_ all by myself …' the hand pulled out a mass of ground, dried and compressed rodent intestines and sunflower seeds, in tablet shapes, and poised it to be tipped into his mouth.

Hedwig was immediately facing him and hooting at him for attention. She had always liked those treats, and Harry rarely offered them, because he didn't often visit her in the Owlery at Hogwarts, and she did most of her own hunting during summer because the Dursleys usually tried to chase her away if she rested outside the house too often. Smiling to himself, Harry held out his hand, the treat on his palm. Hedwig hopped from her cage and snatched the treat in her beak, gobbling it up so quickly, he didn't even see her crushing it before swallowing it. She was still not completely warm towards him, but he had been at least partly forgiven for neglecting her.

'I'll give you another if you promise not to drop anything down any part of my clothes today, deal?'

Hedwig hooted in agreement and opened her beak expectantly, like a baby bird waiting to be fed by its parents.

Harry chuckled for the first time he could remember that summer and got another treat for his faithful companion, stroking the feathers of her head once after he had given her the treat. This seemed to have helped a lot with getting the snowy white owl to forgive him, but he wasn't there yet, and it would not be done instantly.

Picking up his glasses from his desk, Harry perched them onto the bridge of his nose again, and returned to the book as he got down onto the floor to do push ups. Outside, he could hear Dudley's gang arriving to retrieve their great leader for their "tea parties" which was really just what they told uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia, in reality, they would go into Little Whinging and get an adult to buy alcohol and tobacco which they would consume near the park while either beating up or scaring little children. Of course, only the Dursleys would believe these idiotic excuses, and if anyone blamed their precious "Duddikins" for any wrongs, they would assume that Harry had done it and used his "freakishness" to transfer guilt onto Dudley.

Harry didn't bother to count how many repetitions he did as he read about spell modifications and spell creations, what was important was that he got tired, too tired to lift his torso any more, then he would turn over and do the same with sit ups. As his neck was starting to go sore and his stomach ache, his belly reminded Harry that he hadn't eaten in nearly twenty hours. Although he didn't have much of an appetite, Harry halted his training for now and went downstairs, remaining in erect position despite his stomach's wishes to double over. It wouldn't do to have his aunt banging on his door to get him to eat so they wouldn't get into trouble with those "freaks" that had threatened them at King's Cross.

The kitchen was luckily empty, and no one objected to Harry making himself some sandwiches and a glass of orange juice.

While he ate, Harry read some more, having moved on to the Defence Against the Dark Arts books he had gotten for Christmas. He felt that he really needed some new books, he had memorised more than half of all the books he'd had through his five years at Hogwarts, and the small store of Pepper-Up Potion he had ready showed that he knew the practical aspect of the books as well. The Pepper-Up was good as an endurance drink, unfortunately, it tasted nearly as bad as fish water, with peppers stuffed in. But he wasn't drinking the stuff for the taste, but rather the effect, although he didn't drink it too often, as too much could start an addiction.

Harry went out for his run after havin sat still for half an hour, reading while he let the food digest in peace, the book still firmly held in front of him.

He ignored the couple of cats that followed him, as he knew them to be part Kneazle and under the employ of Mrs Figg, to help keep an eye on him. He ignored Dudley and his gang as they stood at a street corner and pelted passing cars in pebbles as they smoked cigarettes and drank beer. He ignored the looks of contempt that followed him from behind the nets of windows in the respectable homes, where there were no delinquents to ruin their names. Some children ran away in fear as Harry approached the park, making sure that he didn't see them, obviously Harry's fictional criminal career had evolved into either killing or kidnapping to warrant that amount of terror.

The pounding on the pavement ended when Harry had completed a run around the block about five times, which was about the time he started feeling dead tired, at least in his legs. He returned to his room and gathered a fresh set of clothes before commandeering the bathroom for his shower. He hadn't more than closed the door before he heard his uncle yell 'No more than five minutes, and keep your hands above your navel! We don't want to have to clean up after you!'

Harry rolled his eyes at this, as it had up till he started attending Hogwarts been him that did most of the cleaning, cooking and tending of the home. This might have been the only summer since then that he had not been bullied into doing chores for his room and board, and frankly, Harry didn't care. He'd taken care of them for so long, he was nearly sure that the day he moved out, and they no longer had a scapegoat in the house, they would run their own lives into the ground by taking their frustrations out on others.

Harry spent exactly two minutes in the shower, and the rest getting dressed and dry, letting the warm water run full steam while he was getting dry and dressed, and the warm water tank was soon empty. It looked like Dudley would have to take a cold shower if he wanted to have another "sleep over" with his friends, which was code for bribing the bouncer of a club to let Dudley and his friends in. How on Earth any female on this planet would wish to dance with a boy that could literally "shake the house" while doing the spastic movements that passed for dancing, Harry never wanted to know. It was a medical miracle for Dudley to fit through the doors let alone walk for a while to "dance" at a club with some strange female characters.

Before Harry settled in for a night of studying, he hurried downstairs and retrieved a light bulb from the kitchen cupboard to replace the one that had burned out in his room.

Harry placed the book back in his trunk and sighed. That was the fourth time he had read that book, not to mention all the other books he owned and the ones that Dudley had thrown in there upon receiving. Harry had enough notes to make several books on the subjects he studied. He was bored, a dangerous thing when he was on the edge of emotional flooding.

DING – DONG!

The sound of the doorbell brought Harry somewhat out of his thoughts, but he quickly lowered his head to his notes, he had to check if he had made any mistakes in them.

'BOY!' uncle Vernon bellowed from the downstairs hall, 'GET DOWN HERE!'

Wondering what on earth he could have done now, Harry stomped downstairs, only to see two policeman's uniforms and a crisp grey business dress. The policemen were quickly identified as Remus J. Lupin – a werewolf, taught Defence Against the Dark Arts in Harry's third year, was one of Harry's father's best friends in a group that called themselves the Marauders, his nickname was Moony because of his lycanthropy – and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody – retired Auror, was supposed to teach Defence Against the Dark arts in Harry's fourth year, but was kidnapped by Bartie Crouch Jr who was an escaped Azkaban convicted Death Eater, and kept in a trunk to supply hair for a Polyjuice Potion so Bartie could impersonate him and put Harry through the Triwizard Tournament and help Voldemort regain his body through Harry – while the woman in the business dress was harder, until she winked and briefly changed the colour of her eyes. Nymphadora Tonks – rookie Auror, Metamorphagus, and an all around silly young woman who speaks her mind and looks how she wants be it in clothes or body, but hates her first name.

'Mr Potter,' Tonks stated in a serious tone that Harry could tell she was uncomfortable with, 'we are here to escort you to school early. Your family's application that you spend more time at St Brutus' has been approved. I will follow you to your quarters and oversee your packing so it is done properly and without smuggling along any forbidden items.'

Harry nodded slowly because of aunt Marge who had come out of the living room to watch the spectacle, and went back up the steps, followed by Tonks who had to take smaller steps because of her skirt. Once inside the room and the door firmly closed behind them, Tonks sighed and changed the colour of her hair seven times before returning to the one she had arrived in.

'I hate having to keep it the same for too long,' she explained the packing Harry, 'makes me feel restricted.'

Harry nodded absently as he struggled with the huge pile of notes he had made.

'Here, let me handle this,' Tonks offered and whipped out her wand, although from where, Harry didn't want to know, as that suit looked like it had been painted on. She swished her wand at the papers and they flew into the trunk, the few books Harry had left out ended up inside as well, and that was it. Harry hadn't unpacked many of his things this summer, having simply returned his things to the trunk when he was done with them.

Harry went over the room to make sure he had everything packed, lifting the loose floorboard, looking under the bed, and behind the desk.

'Got everything?' Tonks asked cheerfully, seeming to try and force as much of it out before she had to return to her stern façade. Harry nodded and lifted both trunk and cage at once, ready for his lift. She took the hint and opened the door after a steadying breath, then let Harry walk down first. Lupin and Moody stood on either side of the front door, and opened it when Harry came into view, showing Kingsley Shacklebolt standing outside a police van.

Harry walked towards the back of the van, arriving just as Kingsley opened the door for him, and hopped in with his trunk, quickly followed by Lupin and Moody. Tonks sat up front with Kingsley after the back door was slammed shut, Harry seated along the side wall of the van with the two "policemen" sitting on the other side, the trunk between them.

Not long after, the car shifted form and became more like a taxi cab, the trunk in the boot, and with Harry in the back seat with Moody and Lupin next to him. This was obviously an enchanted car, and judging by the alley they were currently in, Harry guessed that they had waited with changing its appearance until they were out of sight. Tonks had even changed her hair to shocking green and in spikes all over while complaining to Kingsley about having to have taken the part because professor McGonagall was unavailable.

There was very little conversation in the car, as no one seemed to know what to say, apart from Tonks' complaints about having to be so serious. Harry was sure that there was more to his protection than what met the eye, probably invisible witches and wizards on broomsticks circling overhead like birds of prey.

Harry just sat there, focusing on building a secondary shield around his mind, trying to master Occlumency – a technique or branch of magic to defend the mind from outside intrusions - so he wouldn't have to have more lessons with Severus Snape – his Potions Master at Hogwarts, hates Harry because of something his father did to him, a spy for Dumbledore in Voldemort's forces. Last year, they had gotten into quite the row when Harry's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had taken a look at Snape's memories.

When they were about three streets from their destination, Moody had Kingsley stop, because for all they knew, the Ministry could have tracked this car, and it would not be wise to show them where the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was.

Harry didn't mind, he hadn't had his run today, so he felt that this could somewhat make up for it. While Kingsley took the car back to the Ministry, from where it had been borrowed, Harry, Tonks, Lupin and Moody went on. Tonks was her graceful self, and halfway there managed to trip on a pebble, right into a collection of trash bins filled to the rim, causing quite a racket. The best part was that she had to keep from using magic to clean herself up because of the Muggles that might be watching, so she had to walk around with unidentifiable mass covering various parts of her, as she smelt of diapers, rotten bananas, and fish. Harry had barely been able to keep himself from laughing his head off, as it was a very hilarious scene. Tonks' glare silenced him, but didn't keep Lupin from snickering like a first-year at Hogwarts. Moody was also making a sound that could be taken as a deep and raspy chuckle.

When they arrived at their street, Moody looked around with his magical eye to make sure they had no observers before Harry was ushered into the hidden house of number twelve Grimmauld Place, between two other properties.

Harry had no sooner gotten inside the door before he was swept into a very powerful hug by a worried Mrs Weasley. Ron's mother had always thought of Harry as her eighth child, and worried just as much about him as she did any of her other seven children. She was a short and dumpy woman with a long blaze of red hair. She simply radiated of motherly tenderness … unless one happened to be either caught in one of her infamous hugs or were at the receiving end of one of her triads. Ron had at one time joked privately to Harry about his mother strangling a dragon to death with her strength if she had the chance, but Charlie – Ron's second eldest brother – wouldn't bring any home for fear of just that. Not a very likely scenario as dragons were too large to go unnoticed if brought into a Muggle neighbourhood and it was illegal to breed them or have them as pets. (Not that this stopped one of Harry's first and best friends at one time …)

'How are you, Harry? Oh, you hardly have any meat on you!' Mrs Weasley started as she turned him around forcefully, lifting the occasional limb to get a better view. 'Ooooooooh, when I get my hands on those rotten Muggles, leaving you to starve like that – I've seen how fat their son is – as they gorge themselves on Lord only knows what!'

Harry knew better than to interrupt this ranting, as that would bring further attention to himself.

'Mum, let him breathe without worrying about you squeezing the life from him!' Ron to the rescue, Harry thought happily as he was released by Mrs Weasley. He immediately started gathering up his trunk and owl cage.

'Hello, Ron,' he greeted, feeling much better now that he was able to breathe freely.

'Hi, mate,' the redheaded boy greeted in return before a blur of red sped past him, followed by a brown one, and Harry once more found himself in a tight hug, this time by two young women – calling them girls at this age and stage of maturity would nearly be an insult. They were Hermione Granger – Harry's best friend, apart from Ron, for over five years, and his councillor when dealing with emotional matters, his conscience had oddly enough taken on her voice – and Ginny Weasley – Ron's younger and only sister, she had a crush on him since she was ten, but lately had grown out of it.

It slightly annoyed him to see that even Ginny had outgrown him in height. It was not fun being the shortest of all his friends.

This was forgotten not long after the thought appeared, as he started having trouble breathing from their double pincer grip. Luckily, Mr Weasley arrived in time to start prying the two young women's arms from either Harry's neck or chest.

Hermione was very excited and bubbling about the Black Library being uncovered within the building, and how it was now open from quarantine, and clean. This was actually good news for Harry, as he wanted more books to read, and a library was sure to have more books for him to read. Ron merely rolled his eyes at Hermione's ranting, stating that Harry had better things to do than sit around reading musty old books in summer.

It came as a great shock to him when Harry actually showed interest in the Library. Not only that, Ron looked very faint when Harry stated that he had already memorised all his books first year through fifth and those he had gotten as gifts and had lent from Hogwarts' Library, and made notes about them all. Hermione became even more excited and started chattering to Harry about Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and Harry's opinion of them and so on. Tonks interrupted this budding discussion by reminding Harry that he had some unpacking to do before he could start a discussion group about homework, something Harry found a silly remark, as those just out of their fifth year had no more summer assignments than those just out of their seventh year, as they had just finished a milestone within their education and were preparing for the next step. They hadn't even received their OWLs yet, so how they could have any assignments in classes they had yet to pick was beyond him, although he assumed it was meant as a witty remark, or that it was directed mainly at Ginny.

'So,' Hermione started awkwardly, 'How was your summer so far?'

Ron halted immediately and glared at Hermione as though to shut her up.

'Oh never mind, Ron,' Ginny cut in, 'she never mentioned Sirius, and -'

'Shhh!' Ron interrupted, as though expecting Harry to blow up in their faces upon hearing the name.

'It's been fine,' Harry stated, ignoring the sibling squabble, 'been keeping busy. Reading, writing, keeping myself fit.'

'Oh, Harry,' Hermione clearly regretted bringing the subject up. 'We miss him too.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed dully, 'I know.'

Harry reached the room Ron and he shared last year, but Ron nudged him on.

'You've got your own room this year,' he said, pointing down the hallway, 'the one next to the Master bedroom.'

Harry swallowed heavily and walked past the door of the Master bedroom, and entered a room that contained two doors besides the one leading from the room, a bed was along the centre of the far wall, and a desk were the only furniture in the room apart from the painting of Phineas Nigellus.

After setting his trunk at the foot of the bed, and Hedwig's cage on the desk, Harry investigated the two other doors. The first opened to a large closet, nearly as large as his room at the Dursleys. The second opened up to a bathroom, complete with shower, bathtub, toilet, sink and talking mirror. Said mirror made a concerned remark about how awful the Nazis must have treated him during his captivity. Hermione said she'd get Mrs Weasley to have a look at that mirror to see if it was broken, after she heard the remark. Neither Ron nor Ginny understood what that mirror was referring to, and stood blinking at the closed door.

After opening Hedwig's cage, Harry grabbed some fresh sheets of parchment and his quill and inkwell, and bid Hermione to lead the way to the Library, surprising Ron enough to stumble.

* * *

Harry kept his training and reading at a slowly increasing pace while at Grimmauld Place. However, he never went down to the Library before ten o'clock after his first morning. 

The reason for this, was that the Library was fitted with a huge bay window that was an excellent source of natural light, even if it showed the view of a tropical beach, as though the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was located in a tropical paradise instead of a grimy street in the London area. This window in itself was not much of a reason, but Harry had gone down in the morning to study as normal, and after a while, went for a new book when he tripped as he crossed the warm rays of sunlight pouring from the window. It would be silly to say that it was the light that tripped him, but to a degree it was so. Harry looked about to see a stark naked Tonks on a blanket with a bottle of tanning lotion next to her. She barely lifted her head as Harry got to his feet and apologised repeatedly.

'I've been coming here every morning since we found this place,' she explained lazily. 'Great place to get a tan and relax. Just look at that tropical paradise the window shows …'

After that, Harry made sure that no one were nude in the Library as he entered after ten before he settled in. Neither he nor Tonks told anyone of this incident, and Ron, Ginny and Hermione were starting to wonder why Harry refused to enter the Library before certain hours.

Harry was, however, not left completely to his own devices. Mrs Weasley made sure that Harry was present at every meal, and that he put away anything she dished out. As his body now had some building material, Harry's training was slowly starting to show its physical effects. Hermione was unable to study near Harry before dark, as he was never standing or sitting still, always hopping about doing something as training while he read, thereby distracting her from her own studies. Ron found Harry's constant activity annoying as well, as he was distracted from it while playing wizarding chess with Ginny, and nearly lost. It was obvious that Harry's behaviour grated on several other nerves, but the elder members of the Order couldn't argue with the results of Harry's constant studying and training, as he was slowly regaining the mass he was supposed to have, and there is never such a thing as too much knowledge.

Mrs Weasley felt bad for Harry, repressing his emotions by doing all of this, and had tried a couple of times to shake him out of it, without any luck. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, had offered to tie Harry down until he faced reality, but the suggestion was declined as it was too cruel, and he might resent them all for it. But that didn't stop them from arranging pranks directed at Harry, and try to flush his emotions out with accumulation of other emotions. Unfortunately, Harry seemed to gain a certain talent in spotting traps set for him, and simply avoided them until someone else had triggered them. Mrs Weasley was most unpleased about having her hair coloured blue, and Snape didn't appreciate the trick step they had temporarily installed in the steps for the kitchen which lead to him stumbling and twisting his foot. Ginny was on the verge of breaking the rule for Underage Wizardry when she got a facefull of Sneezing Solution as she got a book for Harry, her infamous Bat Bogey Hex sprung to mind, and the twins fled in terror while proclaiming that they had business to attend to.

* * *

Harry looked up from his notes as Hermione stormed in with an ecstatic expression while holding an opened letter in one hand and an unopened one it the other. 

'They're here! They're here!' she exclaimed gleefully, doing a silly little jig before coming to a full stop in front of Harry. 'The OWL results! They're here!'

Ron entered during this spectacle with his own letter, looking both relieved and disappointed.

'What did you get?' Harry asked Ron cautiously.

'Nine,' was the simple reply. 'Still, better than Fred or George got … at least I won't have to stand that greasy git Snape again.'

'Ron!' Hermione scolded, 'That is no way to speak of a professor … even if it's true!'

Harry's lips twitched at the last mumbled comment, Ron hadn't heard it because he was retreating, recognising the beginnings of one of Hermione's rants a mile away.

'Anyway,' Hermione said, changing the subject, 'I brought you yours.'

'Thanks,' Harry accepted carefully, preparing for the worst while hoping for the best as he broke the seal of his official OWL scores. Hermione respectfully seated on the other side of the table, despite obviously wishing to stand over his shoulder and read the results for herself. She was practically shaking as though holding in a great secret, and was bursting to tell someone.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_In the included papers, you will find the Scores for your Ordinary Wizarding Level tests (OWLs) a suggested selection of choices has been included for your chosen occupation guideline of Auror. Please note; any abnormalities in the marking of your OWL scores will be shown with a star shape like this; ._

_The School Board wishes you further good luck with your scholastic career._

_Professor Griselda Marchbanks_

_Head of the OWL & NEWT Examinations Board_

Harry skipped over the pleasantries and went straight to the results.

_Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for Harry James Potter_

_Abbreviations;_

_Terrible T_

_Dreadful D_

_Poor P_

_Acceptable A_

_Exceeds ExpectationsE_

_Outstanding O_

_Not Applicable NA_

_Failed Attendance FA_

_Please note; An Outstanding mark is awarded two OWLs, if a score is not completely the best, only one OWL will be counted. To achieve one OWL, at least a mark of Acceptable or above must be achieved. Scores below Acceptable will not count as any OWLs._

_Subject Practical Mark Theoretical Mark TotalDeviation OWL(s)_

_History of Magic NA P P 1_

_Divination P A A 1_

_Herbology A A A1_

_Care of Magical Creatures O E O 1_

_Charms O O O2_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts O OO 3_

_Transfiguration E E E 1_

_Potions OE O 1_

_Astronomy A A A 1_

_Total number OWLs; 12_

_# 01; the Historical Society demanded that Messrs Potter, Weasley and Ms Granger & Ms Weasley be awarded one additional OWL to their History of Magic OWLs because of their help in uncovering the whereabouts and legality of the Chamber of Secrets. Note; this demand will not count on the NEWTs_

_# 02; Due to NEWT Level spell; the Patronus, and knowledge of the subject beyond expectations, one additional OWL has been added to your score_

_# 03; Due to interference during the testing, all results have been marked, taking the interference as cause of poorer test results into account._

_If you Harry J. Potter wish to retake one or more of your OWLs, please contact the Examinations Board before 05 August with the request._

_You have chosen the possible career option of; Auror, and the as requirements were me, the following subjects have been suggested:_

_Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts + Elective subjects, no more than three permitted, no more than one recommended_

_Please send application for subjects to your Head of House before 07 August._

_A booklist will be sent when the Head of House has received and approved the application. Please note, if the Head of House finds you unfit for one or more of the subjects applied for, they are allowed to notify you and ask you to reconsider. If unsuitable subjects still are applied to, those subjects will be dropped and replaced with more fitting ones._

Harry dropped his letter in shock. He'd made it into the classes he wanted.

'What's wrong, Harry?' asked a concerned Hermione and made towards his letter. 'It wasn't that bad, was it?'

Harry wordlessly handed her the letter, staring into space while trying to comprehend what had happened.

A high pitched squeal of delight was Harry's only warning before he found himself bouncing in time with Hermione's hopping hug as she expressed in a loud and high tone how proud she was of him. Harry felt like a rag doll as he was unable to get out of the excited grasp of this young woman as she herself bounced all over the Library whilst defying the laws of gravity and energy by effortlessly dragging Harry along with her.

The loud noise attracted the other occupants of the house to the Library which was normally so silent when the Weasley twins were out. They were greeted to the sight of Hermione bouncing around with Harry in a pincer grip as she screamed 'Twelve OWLs! Twelve Owls! I'm so proud of you!' in excitement.

As soon as the meaning of Hermione's screams became understandable, Mrs Weasley joined in, and nearly succeeded in grinding Harry's innards into pâté with the help of Hermione, both screaming how proud they were of him. Harry silently vowed never to reveal any test results to either of them ever again, as it might prove fatal. The look Ron held didn't bode well either, as he looked like a pressure cooker that was about to blow its top. Why must Ron become jealous about things beyond my control? Harry thought exasperatedly. After what felt like an eternity of light breathing from constricted lung capacity, Harry was released, causing him to topple halfway over and gasp for the much desired gas he had been mostly deprived of for minutes.

'Mum almost did the same thing when she heard I made Prefect,' Ginny remarked to her father who had come in during the female squealing.

'Oh, congratulations,' Harry wheezed. He knew exactly how proud Mrs Weasley would be when her children achieved that status. 'What did you ask for?' Last year when Ron got to be Prefect, he was awarded his very own new – although not top of the line – broomstick.

'The choice stood between a new broomstick and a pet of my own,' Ginny shrugged. 'I don't often send letters nor need animal companionship, so I chose a new broomstick.' She shot her parents a look before adding quickly, 'Not top of the line, of course. Still, it might be better than Ron's, because with Fred and George out of Hogwarts, we have a little more gold to spend now that their tuition doesn't need to be paid. It could help the team when the Quidditch season starts.'

'Speaking of which,' Ron interrupted, 'you don't think that stupid ban is still active, do you?'

Harry sighed and took off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Ron,' he started slowly, 'it is called a life-time ban for a reason. As much as I'd like to be hopeful, chances of having an official ban lifted are so slim, Snape would have a bigger chance of finally admitting that the reason he was angry with my father was that he was jealous of my mum for marrying him than the ban being lifted. What's so funny?'

Looking around the room, Harry saw Ron and Ginny doubled over with giggles, Hermione trying to control her laughter while looking reproachfully at him, and Mr & Mrs Weasley turning their backs at him to hide their smiles.

'I'm serious here!' Harry stated, 'If my ban had been lifted, not only would half the Ministry and Hogwarts be accused for nepotism, but I'd already have my broom back! We might as well face facts, Ron, there's no chance of me rejoining the team this year, or any year.'

This sobered the youngest Weasleys up.

'But that means that nearly all the team has to be replaced this year!' Ron complained.

'Complain to Umbridge, she's the one that banned me,' Harry sighed and returned to reading, knowing he could hand his application directly to professor McGonagall when she came for an Order meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was studying the more in-depth parts of Animagi when his Head of House walked in, as proper and stiff as always, and with a cane in her hand to help keep her on her feet. She still carried an air of someone you should not cross, even if her mobility was somewhat impaired at the moment. The reason why she was in this condition, was because of the woman known as Umbridge had tried to force the half-giant groundskeeper Hagrid to vacate the grounds at the very least, if not going directly to Azkaban where he had spent about two months in Harry's second year. Professor McGonagall had gotten wind of it and set out to stop it. The five Aurors that Umbridge had brought with her had fired stunners at her, which is more than a person her age is able to handle without being affected.

'Mr Potter,' she greeted formally, 'here is your supply list for the year. Congratulations on your OWL scores.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Harry accepted with the most warmth he could muster.

'As you can see, you got into your chosen subjects, it makes me proud that I did not have to _persuade_ Severus to accept you into his class, although he insisted on contacting the Examinations Board to see if you had managed to tamper with your results somehow,' she admitted, her eyes twinkling with pride. 'They would all be as proud of you as I am,' she added.

Harry knew she meant his parents and Sirius without thinking, and simply nodded his agreement.

'I'll leave you to your studies, it would be nice if you contributed to Gryffindor winning the House Cup through the same means that everyone else has to, through knowing the answers and staying in line.'

As McGonagall departed the Library, Harry wrote down another book on his personal shopping list.

That night, as Harry was being forced to eat his supper, Mrs Weasley confirmed Harry's suspicions about his school supplies.

'You'd better give me your lists tonight, and I'll go get everything in the morning,' she said in her usual mother hen tone.

Hermione looked just as disappointed as Harry felt. It had been years since he had last been to Diagon Alley, and he had hoped that he was allowed to go this year.

'I have a personal list, Mrs Weasley, of books I'd like to get in addition to my school books,' Harry said after gaining her attention from a cough. As he saw her hesitate when she saw the titles, he added, 'Either you or someone from the Order will get them for me, or I'll force my way out and get them myself.'

He hated having to set such an ultimatum, but he needed more in depth books on the subjects he studied, and those did not exist within the Black Library.

A range of emotions played across Mrs Weasley's face, before she settled on resigned and nodded, accepting Harry's lists and Gringotts key. Hermione looked shocked that Harry would actually threaten Mrs Weasley of all people with leaving on his own and by force if need be, and was visible restraining a scolding solely because of Harry's near impeccable behaviour so far this summer.

* * *

Harry was puzzled. He had awoken early as usual, trained a bit, then gone to the kitchen to see if Mrs Weasley had started breakfast yet. Only, when he got there, none were to be found. Not in Ginny and Hermione's room, not in Ron's room, or any other bedroom. He started feeling miffed, thinking that Mrs Weasley had taken the others to Diagon Alley without him, and headed for the Library, Tonks' nudity be damned.

Harry had just entered the Library when a loud shout of 'SURPRISE!' shocked him backwards into a bookcase. His hand was halfway to his wand before what he saw registered.

In front of him, spread over most of the Library, was a large chunk of the Order of the Phoenix, and a few of Harry's friends, whom he saw daily after arriving here. Hagrid had managed to squeeze his way in through the door along with Madame Maxime, and they had placed themselves behind the table. The twins had on happy or cunning faces, as it was very difficult to pinpoint at this moment in time. Snape and McGonagall were present on either side of Dumbledore, and Lupin was standing with Moody and Tonks not far from the main bulk of the group. Ron and Hermione were standing behind Ginny, all of them grinning with suppressed celebration. On the table he used for studying were presents and foods, and a banner strung above it, proclaiming "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" (were it not for this banner, he'd be confused about whom this was for and why he hadn't been informed, but he couldn't see why anyone would celebrate him like a normal person).

The one person in the room that was the most confused was Harry, as he had forgotten about his own birthday. He had been so busy with training and studying that it had completely slipped his mind.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny rushed up to him and guided him to the table where a huge cake had been placed, sixteen candles alit above the chocolate icing.

'Go on, mate,' Ron encouraged him, 'blow them all out and make a wish.'

Unfamiliar with this custom, at least from personal experience, Harry tentatively closed his eyes and concentrated on a single thought. I hope the prophecy is more of a guideline than a rule, he thought, then expelled all the air he could from his lungs, extinguishing the candles. Harry felt a tingle run up his back, as though someone were walking on his grave. Fred and George looked disappointed and shocked, but everyone else applauded as one usually did.

'What did you wish for?' asked Ginny, as someone always does.

'Must have been for all the candles to go out, because they were trick candles,' George commented.

'I know they were,' stated their mother with a scowl, 'I replaced them myself.'

Dawning realisation showed on the twins' faces as Tonks carved the first piece of the cake for Harry.

Harry was bullied, although good-naturedly, into sampling the cake first. Apparently, all the resident women, young and old, had contributed to the making of it. Neither Fred nor George had been allowed anywhere near the kitchen during the making of the cake as they were well known to try and make a joke out of things, as the trick candles showed. A goblet of Butterbeer was thrust into Harry's hands to wash down the delicious chocolate & apricot cake with chocolate icing, and Harry was happy to have his favourite beverage again, it felt like an eternity since the last time he'd last had some.

It was one of the happiest days Harry could remember that did not involve Quidditch. A couple of enchanted musical instruments started playing, and everyone celebrated Harry's day of birth.

Harry was congratulated more than once on his day, and even managed to see how disgruntled Snape was with him being accepted into his class. The hook nosed man sneered at the mere sight of Harry, and Dumbledore and McGonagall's boasting of Harry's OWL results were not helping the greasy-haired man relax and feel at home.

After a while, Harry was ushered over to the table once more, and the presents were shoved at him eagerly.

Because of their continued stay within number twelve Grimmauld Place, not many of the younger persons had time to go out and purchase proper presents to Harry, so they had had Mr and Mrs Weasley get him candy, which was the safest and least conspicuous to get.

From Hermione, Harry was given a large slab of Honeyduke's Best Chocolate, and a pack of sugarless gum.

From Ron and Ginny, two large boxes of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans and some chocolate frogs.

From the twins, a large sample case of their products, with a request to make Filch's job hell, Dumbledore covered his ears and hummed merrily as this was said, and acted as though nothing of harm had happened. Snape and McGonagall did not agree with the headmaster, and Harry was sure that if any mischief was about at school, he'd be the prime suspect.

Moody gave Harry a proper holster for his wand ('So you won't loose your buttocks,' he stated).

Mr Weasley gave Harry a razor set, ('Don't trust those spells to do a proper shaving, Bill lost most of his hair on the right side of his face when his wand came at a slight angle, and even a small mispronunciation can cause grievous harm,' the experienced father said in a tone of voice most fathers reserve for lectures. 'I've had the liberty of – er – fixing the Muggle razor set for you, cough, you won't have to worry about nicks and cuts, or shaving foam and rubbing alcohol for that matter.') Mrs Weasley had been out of hearing range at the time, but Harry understood.

Dumbledore had gone together with McGonagall and gotten Harry a year's supply of Lemon Drops, and a pair of good socks, mismatched of course.

Lupin had gotten Harry a magical wrist watch, which looked perfectly like a Muggle digital watch, with numerous interesting features (among which was to tell time, show a map of the immediate one mile radius area with intricate detail that could be selected in scale, a star chart that could be shown in an illusion of a model, a dark magic detector, and a never-fail compass).

Hagrid and Madame Maxime had gotten Harry a box of Sugar Quills and a slab of Honeyduke's Best Chocolate.

Snape had, begrudgingly, handed Harry a mortar and pestle of adequate quality.

Tonks was quick to swap Harry's glasses for a pair of sunglasses that were charmed to change according to the sight of the wearer, saying that she had tried to get him a Weird Sisters' T-shirt, but they were sold out.

Harry hardly read a thing all day, and hardly missed it because of all the fun they were having.

* * *

_Harry was being chased by a mountain troll, its club raised to strike as they rushed through the enlarged hallways and corridors of Hogwarts. He was all alone against this foe. His wand wouldn't obey his commands, and spells died on his tongue. His only choice was to run on his suddenly sluggish legs, only sheer force of will keeping him going at any speed._

_Looking over his shoulder, Harry could see the dragon bearing down on him, a pillar of fire slithering across the ground like a basilisk. Harry ran. The basilisk gained on him, but he wasn't able to look back without being petrified through his glasses._

_The troll was nearly upon him, swinging a basilisk as it howled a war cry. The stench was nearly unbearable, and Harry felt his eyes water. A few good cleansing charms sprung to mind, but this really wasn't the time to think about hygiene and smells, as he was about to have his head bashed in by a giant basilisk swung at the hands of a troll._

_Suddenly, he was falling through the air, his broom hanging useless from his hand, and his wand just as useless from his other, the wind screaming in his ears as he rapidly neared the ground. Hogwarts could be seen as a growing spot below, the lake twinkling innocently and merrily, the forest looking peaceful and was incredibly large … he never really thought about how large the Forbidden Forest was. The screaming of the wind changed its pitch to that of a woman, and a pair of warm arms snaked themselves around him, screaming defiantly into the cold that surrounded him and these warm arms, this haven of safety. Words had no meaning as these arms protected him from himself and his mind._

Harry sat up blinking, what was that dream again?

He couldn't remember, but it had started out as a nightmare, like he always had.

Noticing that the sun was rising, Harry put on his glasses and started his daily routine of training.

He was in the middle of his jogging routine out in the hallways when he nearly ran into Hermione, causing him to halt in less than a foot of distance.

'Harry!' she exclaimed, startled enough to quicken her breath.

'Sorry, Hermione,' Harry apologised, 'I didn't expect anyone else out at this hour, so I didn't look where I was going.'

'Oh, it's fine,' she breathed, 'I had a dream and didn't feel like sleeping any more.'

Harry nodded absently and gestured for her to accompany him, maybe have a quick bite in the kitchen.

Hermione was in a happy mood this morning, and started up a conversation about conjuring. Harry's birthday, having been over for nearly three weeks, was about the time she discovered that Harry was nearly done with his new books, and had hurried to catch up with him. She had found the theory of conjuring slightly confusing, but then, she hadn't had the time to go over it more than once yet, and having someone to talk to about it helped her understanding somewhat. At least she got a different view about things, and how someone else understood what she had read. Harry's theory was a bit simpler to understand, as he felt conjuring was not really making things out of nothing, but rather transfiguring the air near the intended target area into what you wanted to make.

Harry, not in such a bad mood himself, answered her questions, and asked some in return before they moved on to other subjects.

By the time Mrs Weasley came down, the two had gone through conjuring, Animagi, enchantments, animating objects and several healing draughts. They were talking animatedly about a shield spell when the Weasley matriarch entered to start breakfast. All the two had consumed were a couple of goblets of pumpkin juice, and some Lemon Drops.

By the time breakfast was made, Hermione found out that Harry had applied for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and was drilling him for details of what he knew and if he though himself ready to take on a NEWT level class of something he hadn't had before.

'I read through, and memorised the very elementary books on both subjects in the Black Library before even considering taking up those subject, Hermione,' Harry defended. 'I've since read a few more, and McGonagall had me take a short test to see if I could keep up with the rest of the class, and she got no negative response from the other professors.'

Hermione bit her lower lip in mild worry anyway.

'Lemon Drop?' Harry offered.

'Are you sure they are sugarless?' she asked dubiously.

'No,' Harry answered honestly, 'but I'm sure that if you brush your teeth after breakfast, you needn't worry about the lasting effect before you turn a hundred and thirty, your dental hygiene taken into consideration. And before it came to that, you'd have gotten something to restore your teeth to normal from some potion or spell.'

Hermione was about to take a Lemon Drop when Mrs Weasley came over and placed plates of food in front of them, with a mountain of content on them, saying that they shouldn't spoil their appetites with candy.

Harry and Hermione ate their breakfast under the stern and watchful eye of Mrs Weasley, who still thought Harry was all skin stretched over bones, although the three youngest women of the house might argue this, as Harry had gained weight, and kept his muscles in training so they got hard and strong, although not overly large. Of the three young women, Tonks was the only one brave enough to comment on it every time she saw him. Harry took this as some sort of joke, as he hardly felt any different, nor did he see any difference when he looked in the mirror. And he didn't trust the judgement of his mirror after it claimed he came from a prolonged stay in a Nazi labour camp, as it lately had developed a habit of making a sort of moaning sound when he came within view, followed by smacking of lips. He found it very disturbing. Mr Weasley had been up to check the mirror nearly twenty times, and there was nothing wrong with it that he could find, but Harry still wasn't certain of the elder wizard's judgement.

As the two ate, the rest of the house started waking and coming down one or two at a time, and Mrs Weasley expertly set out the plates and mountains of food for them to eat.

'What are you two conspiring about?' asked a sly twin, as it had come so fast, Harry couldn't tell which one had said it.

'We're merely comparing notes,' Hermione answered and washed down the eggs with some pumpkin juice. 'It's always good to be prepared when the NEWTs get here.'

'But that's nearly two years from now!' Ron exclaimed indignantly. 'Don't say you plan on pestering us about studying all this year and next!'

'What else is there for me to do?' asked Harry morosely.

'Quidd-' Ron started to say, but stopped quickly, remembering the ban.

Fred and George also suddenly saddened as they thought of the game they weren't allowed to play any more.

'The Defence Association!' Ginny chirped in. 'You could continue the DA! That's something to do!'

Harry's spirits lightened somewhat. 'That is something,' he agreed, 'and I have been preparing a training schedule …'

'Oooh, I'll help you go over it!' Hermione offered excitedly.

Ron groaned and let his head fall to the thick table with a dull thump.

'Maybe we could even get the Defence Association sanctioned by Dumbledore himself, so we wouldn't have to sneak about so much!' Ginny chirped in again, seeing that her idea was starting to grow roots. 'I know there are more students that would like to join, even if we do get a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year.'

'It sounds tempting, and a lot more fun than continually studying, not that I haven't already covered much of what we're bound to get for assignments already,' he added at seeing Hermione starting to sour. 'But I'll only do it if we do things my way, not protests or questions about my motives. The plans I have for the DA this year are a lot harsher than they were last year, and people will hate me for a while after the new plans are implemented.'

'What do you mean?' asked Hermione cautiously. There was a gleam in Harry's eyes as he spoke. It could be passion for his plan, or insanity.

'Physical exorcise, proper duelling in teams of odd numbers, not that sort of Duelling Club that Lockhart had, but training every single day, to give everyone a chance at survival!' Harry explained, his tone becoming more and more passionately empowered without realising it. 'What we need to do is to learn proper fighting, a real battle is never fair, and opponents never stand idly by to wait for you to get ready, they would rather kill and be done with it! That is what they need to learn, and I'll be learning right along side them!'

At the end of his speech, Tonks, Fred and George stood from their seats and theatrically applauded him, wolf whistling and cheering, making Harry aware of the presence of half the Weasley clan also present.

'Isn't that a bit drastic?' asked Ron. 'I mean, having the DA every day, what about homework and Quidditch?'

'Ron, get your priorities straight!' Hermione scolded, 'If Harry trains himself and all of us to be fit, that will reflect on your Quidditch skills, so you needn't put so much energy into Quidditch training. And as for homework – you should do them as soon as you can, or even during idle moments in class. The NEWTs are coming up sooner than you think, and the better prepared you are, the better you will do, and the better your chosen vocation will be!'

'You don't need to have your NEWTs to get a good job!' Ron protested, 'Just look at Fred and George! They never took their NEWTs and they own the most successful joke shop in Diagon Alley and are on the verge of pressing Zonko's out of the market!' the redheaded boy was ignorant to his mother's disapproving stare, or Fred and George's gestures of not bringing them into this argument. 'And then there's Harry, who has been guaranteed a perfect career even before he started Hogwarts, and has more money than even the Malfoy family without having to dirty his hands for a single knut! Now, tell me how important the NEWTs are!'

Without waiting for a response, or to offer apologies, Ron strode out of the kitchen, steaming.

Silence ruled the kitchen for nearly a full minute as they heard the muffled stomping of Ron, followed by the distant slamming of a door.

'How _did_ you manage to open a joke shop and get a loan without having completed your NEWTs?' Mrs Weasley asked Fred, a suspicious twinkle in her eye as she balled up her fists and perched them on her hips. Fred looked to his twin and saw the same slight fear of their mother.

'Oh … er …' he started. 'That is …'

'Yes?'

'We had a backer,' George finished, then plugged his ears with his fingers, as though waiting for an explosion. His twin followed, and soon their explosion came.

'WHAT!' Mrs Weasley screamed. 'WHO WOULD LEND MONEY TO A PAIR OF FRESHLY-OUT-OF-SCHOOL TEENAGERS! DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE DANGERS OF BORROWING MONEY FROM STRANGE PEOPLE! THEY COULD BE IN LEAGUE WITH THE DARK LORD, YOU-KNOW-WHO! THEY COULD DEMAND YOU JOIN THEIR RANKS AS PAYMENT FOR YOUR LOAN, AND THEN YOU'D BE HARD PRESSED TO GET OUT OF IT!'

'Mum-'

'YOU TWO HAVE DONE SOME REALLY IRRESPONSIBLE THINGS IN YOUR TIME, BUT THIS CERTAINLY TAKES THE CAKE!'

'Mrs Weasley-'

'NOT ONLY ARE YOU ENDAGERING YOURSELVES, BUT YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY, WITH YOUR STUNTS!'

'MUM!' the twins chorused.

'YES?' Mrs Weasley answered, then stopped herself. 'Yes?'

'We know our backer very well, and he isn't in league with You-Know-Who.' George stated in a placating tone.

'And how do you know that?' asked Mrs Weasley. 'With You-Know-Who about, you never know whom to trust.'

'Because-'

'I'm their backer, Mrs Weasley,' Harry answered, drawing attention to himself. This was it, the secret was out, and he awaited judgement. He was very surprised to be swept into a very strong and warm maternal hug by Mrs Weasley.

She was very relieved about her sons' business not being backed by Death Eaters, and made sure that her sons didn't take advantage of Harry's generosity, and would either pay him back or make him partner of their shop. The twins quickly agreed to this just to get their mother to stop pestering them about it, as she was certain to do.

Harry groaned at the thought of more money in his already filled vault, and contemplated donating to the S.P.E.W.

'And you'd better not be giving it away if you know what's good for you!' Fred chirped in. 'We know how much you dislike money, but if we catch wind of you throwing away your money, even for a good cause, we'll declare war on you until you surrender and hoard your gold like a proper wizard is supposed to!'

This was all said in a humorous tone to let Harry know he was both serious and joking at the same time.

* * *

The first of September arrived quicker than Harry had thought, and soon he woke to it, and found that he had already packed the night before to avoid the madness of doing it that morning. He quickly went through his routines before going to the kitchen for breakfast, dropping off his trunk and Hedwig's cage in the entrance hall. Mrs Weasley was the only one up apart from him and Mr Weasley, and Harry soon had a mountain of food in front of him, which he was forced - through guilt - into eating.

Hermione was the first of the students apart from Harry to arrive, as neat and orderly as always, and she was also presented with a mountain of food. She had apparently had the same idea as Harry had, as he saw her trunk standing next to his as the two finished their meals and sat down to wait in the entrance hall.

Harry's attention was drawn to the charred portion of wall where Mrs Black's painting had been hanging. Apparently, Tonks had lost her wand and was searching in the dark for it with a lit candle, and accidentally set fire to the curtains around the deranged painting, incinerating it and the painting to the horrible sounds of the batty old witch as her canvas started bubbling from the heat before it caught fire. Since no one liked her, or her painting, everyone were elated to see something managing to remove it from the wall, and did nothing to stop the fire, but merely stopped it from spreading to anything else. Tonks later claimed to have done it on purpose, but everyone knew the truth anyway.

Not five minutes after the two had seated themselves at the front door, it opened to admit Moody and Shacklebolt, half their advance guard to King's Cross. Lupin was waiting in the car, and Tonks was eating breakfast as she stood next to the two teens.

Mrs Weasley yelled angrily up the stairs for the two youngest Weasleys to get a move on or they'd be late.

Ginny came bounding down mere moments before Ron did. Ron soon came back up from the kitchen with a piece of toast in his mouth as he went about searching for his quills and parchment, then his missing socks and books. Ginny merely needed to find her socks before she was all packed and joined Harry and Hermione while eating a stack of toast and sipping from a bottle of pumpkin juice as they all watched Ron in action.

The twins came down the stairs in time to see Ron chase Pigwidgeon – Ron's hyperactive minute owl - through the entrance hall with a cage in hand and a piece of toast in his mouth.

'Ah,' Fred said and leaned on his twin, batting his eyes in a theatrical fashion, 'to be young and in a hurry again.'

'Yes,' George agreed in a sigh, 'feels like only last year that we were in such a hurry to catch the Hogwarts Express.'

'It was,' commented Fred.

'Now that you mention it, it was,' agreed George after pretending to think, 'I _thought_ it was a short while ago …'

'Oh, shut it you two and help me get Pig!' Ron snarled and tripped on the edge of the carpet.

'If you insist,' the twins chorused and waved their wands. The over excited and minute owl suddenly transformed into a great pig and landed heavily on Ron's back. Harry couldn't hold in his chuckles at the scene, and Ginny and Hermione weren't much better, snickering behind their hands.

After some chastising from Mrs Weasley, the two identical Weasleys returned Pig to his rightful state, and helped cage him, while Ron got off the ground and dusted himself off.

By now they were starting to run late, and Moody had to admit defeat in taking the long and twisted road to shake off possible trackers, because there was no time for it. The entire group trooped up at King's Cross thirty minutes later, winded from the pace and weight, and none of the four students had time to say proper farewells to the adults as they tried to hurry through the barrier without looking conspicuous.

On the other side, Harry separated from the others, as they had their Prefect meeting, and sought out the back compartments.

Harry found an empty compartment and effortlessly lifted his trunk up to the rack above the seats, keeping Hedwig down with him. He opened the bag he had brought reading material in, and dug out a book on Apparation, which he promptly started to read.

He soon felt the train start to move, and was only distracted a short moment from his book because of it.

Some while later, Neville came in and asked if there was room for him. Harry nodded that there was room for him without looking up from his book. Luna came by as well, having been shunned from every other compartment, and was allowed to stay with them. She started talking to Neville while reading the Quibbler upside down, and Neville spoke with her as he divided the rest of his attention between Trevor, his pet toad, or his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Neither bothered Harry because he looked very busy with his studying.

An hour passed in relative silence, Harry had nearly finished his book by the time Ron, Ginny and Hermione arrived in his compartment.

'That was boring,' Ron stated and plopped down in a seat, not noticing that Luna was in the next one.

'No it wasn't Ron,' Hermione protested, 'it was informative.'

'If you call falling asleep after the first three minutes interesting …' Ron snorted.

'Ron, you are a prefect, you are supposed to set a good example!'

'I am,' Ron stated tersely, 'I haven't hexed Malfoy yet even if his ugly face grew even uglier when he saw Ginny with her badge.'

'Ron, I can take care of myself,' Ginny argued, scowling at her brother.

Harry ignored this argument, as they had been bickering about Ginny's blossoming all the time Harry had been at number twelve Grimmauld Place. That deal with Ginny dating Dean had been a real eye-opener to Ron, and he refused to have anyone paw on her sister, although he did try to push the girl over on Harry instead. Harry assumed this was because of the old adage; "Better with the fool you know, than with one you do not". In this case, the "fools" represented the male population of the world, and Harry was the only one Ron would trust with his baby sister.

About ten minutes in, Ginny had to go on patrol, just as Malfoy and his cronies came by.

'So, Potter,' ha started in his usual drawl, Harry could sense that the boy, as Malfoy still had some mental growing up to do, was still peeved about Harry's friends cursing him and his cronies on the way back from Hogwarts, 'you're the only one of your little friends not to make Prefect, eh? Lonely?'

The mirth was evident in the theatrical note of sympathy. Harry pretended like he never heard anything as he read.

'I asked you a question, Potter!'

Harry kept ignoring the boy, and pointedly turned a page. The compartment's occupants were silently watching this scene unfold.

'What's the matter, Potter?' Malfoy asked after a moment, Harry could feel the beginnings of a smirk on the blonde boy that had declared himself Harry's nemesis. 'You look like your dog died.'

This remark would most definitely have gotten a rise out of Harry before summer, but Harry ignored it. Hermione and Luna had to restrain Ron from lunging at Malfoy and force those words back down his throat, or any other orifice he could find. Harry was well aware of that Malfoy was baiting him to attack so Harry would get into trouble, and he did not intend to play into the boy's hands.

'Why don't you go do what you're supposed to do, Malfoy?' Hermione asked through gritted teeth from both frustration over wrestling her own emotions, and wrestling Ron back into his seat. 'Patrol the corridors, for instance?'

Malfoy growled in annoyance and turned on his heel. Crabbe and Goyle followed wordlessly, as they always did.

Harry remained the same until the witch with the trolley arrived, then he bought several of everything, before sharing with them all. Ron kept to the Chocolate Frogs, while Hermione sat and chewed on the end of a Sugar Quill. Luna toyed with making a necklace out of a great deal of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, much like her Butterbeer cap necklace, and putting it in her mouth every now and again just to get the flavour, like an innocent child. Neville was merely happy to chew on a Liquorice Wand.

Cho Chang decided to visit, but unfortunately for her, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia had gotten a fright from a bee that had landed on it, and squirted stink sap in her direction, drenching the young woman completely. She left not many seconds after that, groaning and moaning in disgust.

As it started to grow darker, Hermione reminded them all to start changing into their uniforms.

The women then commanded the men out, and closed the door and drew down the blinds so they could change in peace. The roles were reversed when the women were done.

Not long after, the train pulled to a stop, and the group of six exited the train into the throng of students.

'First' years! Firs' years over 'ere! Come now, don' be 'fraid! Firs' years this way!'

Harry was very happy to hear the deep and booming voice of the half-giant groundskeeper, whom he didn't have much time to speak with at his birthday party.

''Lo Harry!' Hagrid greeted as he waved his lantern, timid little first years flocking about him, making him look even bigger.

'Hello Hagrid!' Harry returned, waving over the heads of many of his fellow students.

'Bes' get on with me work, we'll chat later!' the friendly man called and went back to gathering the first years.

Harry nodded in understanding and went with his friends to the Thestral drawn carts. The six of them got a cart of their very own, seeing as Luna scared most away by starting to pat the horse like creature's flank, and as only those who has seen and come to terms with someone's death can see them, they thought she was only patting air.

The journey from the Hogsmeade Station to Hogwarts was surprisingly short to Harry, who was on the last chapter of his book, and itching to start another. Hermione and Ron were all too aware of this, and Ron looked like he was on the verge of ripping the book from Harry's hands and slap him to death with it if he didn't stop reading soon. Hermione looked like she wanted to borrow the book after he was done with it.

Before long, Harry had seated himself at the Gryffindor table, a fresh book to read in his hands, about the art of finer conjuring, waiting for the Sorting Ceremony and the Welcome Banquet. Hermione was merrily starting on the book that Harry had just finished, and Ron looked nearly betrayed by Hermione and Harry. Harry; for taking after Hermione too seriously, and Hermione; for supporting Harry's choice. Neville watched the scene unfold with a very confused expression, and Ginny had to tell him what had been going on this summer, without giving away anything secret.

All the students were quick to get themselves seated, and were eagerly discussing their summers with their friends, although there were one or two missing, reminding everyone of the ongoing war. The Death Eaters had yet to make a big attack, but the odd and random attack still happened like they did during Voldemort's first reign. One or two came up to Harry and thanked him for his tutoring, as it was his lessons that had given them the ability to defend themselves long enough for Aurors to arrive and drive off the Death Eaters. Voldemort himself had yet to make any physical appearance, and if Harry understood correctly from what he had managed to overhear at the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters, number twelve Grimmauld Place, he was recovering from the botched attempt at possessing Harry at the Ministry before summer. The opening of the doors for the Great Hall made Harry glance up for a moment, to watch the first years enter with awed expressions as they tried to take it all in and look as small and unnoticeable as possible, uncomfortable under the gaze of so many new faces.

Harry thought wistfully back to the time he had been one of them, nervous about being chucked out for not being the one they had been looking for at all. Nervous about not knowing anything about the magical world, and how those raised in it would mock him for his failures, of he thought that there might have been some mistake and he wasn't magical at all and had to be sent back to the Dursleys. How wrong he was … and how he currently wished it was so …

The Sorting Hat twitched, gaining the attention of the first years. Then the brim split and formed a mouth that started to sing.

_For thousand years and more_

_I have acted as a Magistrate,_

_By separating children_

_And contributing to creating hate._

_Every year and by the score,_

_Even those who wouldn't budge,_

_I have sorted more than a million_

_At a very shameful rate._

_The founders four were all good friends_

_Divided in anger and hate,_

_Because of petty rivalry_

_And baseless jealousy._

_Sir Slytherin, the cunning one,_

_In love with Rowena fair,_

_Competed against Gryffindor_

_To win her love's affair._

_But Gryffindor, the courageous one,_

_Was not about to lose,_

_He won the fair Rowena's heart_

_And crushed his friend._

_Slytherin would not stand by_

_And watch his love go on,_

_And blamed it on his Muggle dad_

_And since went very bad._

_Lady Hufflepuff, the friendly one,_

_Could not mend even this,_

_And watched her friends drift apart,_

_And one she'd dearly miss._

_Lady Ravenclaw, the smart one,_

_Wed the courageous Gryffindor,_

_And bore his only son_

_Whose family lives on._

_So end all strife,_

_and get along,_

_Or end up_

_like this song._

The entire Hall was silent for moments before they remembered to applaud.

'That was a bit gloomy, don't you think?' Ron asked, momentarily forgetting his annoyance at Harry.

'These are gloomy times, Ron,' Harry answered, returning his gaze to the book, flipping the page every thirty seconds.

Hermione nodded her agreement, and returned to the book she had borrowed as well.

The Sorting soon started, professor McGonagall, leaning lightly on her cane, but did not give the impression of actually needing the thing for support, started reading out names in alphabetical order according to their surnames. Harry was surprised to learn that the Creevey brothers had a little sister named Charlotte, and that the little boy that got beaten by Dudley and his gang, who lived just off Harry's street, Mark Evans, was a wizard. He was certain that the Dursleys would move if they ever found out there was more than one of Harry's kind about their home.

Harry was polite enough to look up and applaud the newcomers that were sorted into his house, but the rest of the time was spent reading with great interest.

Dumbledore got to his feet after the last child had been sorted. He looked older than he usually did, but he was still beaming at everyone like normal, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. He looked like a dear old grandfather welcoming his family after a much too long time apart.

'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I would normally have uttered a few words, but I will save them for later, as the rumbling of certain bellies would only drown my speech. Tuck in!'

No sooner had the words been uttered before food appeared on each of the five tables.

Ron nearly physically dove into the food in front of him, grabbing enough food onto his plate to feed half an army. Harry expertly manoeuvred his book so that he could read while eating, and not ruin the book in the progress, although this slowed down on his reading speed, as he had to wipe his hands every now and again to turn the page.

As Ron started to near his fill, he started getting annoyed with Harry again. Hermione was also carefully reading the book she borrowed, but was doing it much more slowly than Harry. With an exaggerated; 'Oops!' Ron knocked his goblet over, making the content spill in the direction of Harry's book. Harry, however, managed to somehow sense the impending disaster and lifted the book before vanishing the flowing fluids and replacing the book where it had been, unharmed and still on the right page.

Hermione glared at Ron over her borrowed book, clearly angry that he would try to deliberately destroy a book like that. Neville looked even more confused, and Ginny had to explain to him again. Although he seemed much more confident compared to last year, Neville still retained some of his old self, as such extreme changes didn't occur over night, or over the summer. He had gotten a new wand, which suited him better than his father's old wand, and this must have contributed to the clumsy boy's maturing.

Harry was among the last to finish his meal, and marked his page when the left-over food disappeared.

Once more, Dumbledore got to his feet.

'Now, I think, as we have all had our fill – some more than others – it is time for the start-of-term notices.

'First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Several of the older students should also remember this. This year it is especially important, as the centaurs in the forest are not very happy with humans at the moment. As a result, Firenze here will dwell in one of the courtyards, please show some consideration to his privacy.

'Second, I have been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. All products bearing the name of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes has been added to this list of contraband items, for a more detailed list, please see the list on Mr Filch's door.

'Quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

'Taking over the duties as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, please welcome the honoured Auror, professor Kingsley Shacklebolt!'

There was a wave of applause about the hall, as everyone welcomed the new, and judging by appearances only, better teacher. Harry tuned out from the rest, as he had heard it all before.

'Now, finally,' Dumbledore continued after applauding politely himself for the large black and intimidating man, 'we will be trying to start a new tradition this year. To lighten the mood, and further creativity instead of destruction, we will during Christmas break hold an Ice Sculpture Competition. Everyone above their third year are to join, but those who do not wish to compete, please report to your head of house within the week, or simply spend the holidays with your loved ones instead of in this cold and old castle. The winner of this competition will get a gift certificate to Honeyduke's for the sum of one hundred galleons, and will be honoured by having his or her sculpture displayed in the Entrance Hall until they graduate and can bring the sculpture with them. We hope this competition will be amusing enough to become a yearly event.'

A murmur of slight interest rose from the students, while most expressed their dislike for the idea immediately. Harry was too consumed in his book to notice.

'Now, Prefects, take your first years back to your houses, and sleep well.'

Hermione, Ron and Ginny rose, followed by two of the seventh years and Collin Creevey, all trying to herd the crowd of first years back to their dormitories.

'Come on you midgets, stay in line!' Ron shouted over the Gryffindor first years.

'Ron, they're not midgets!' Ginny scolded.

'They are to me,' he retorted easily and went on to explain about the doors that pretended to be walls or the other way around.

Harry followed soundlessly, reading from his book while keeping Hermione's feet within view as he walked. He already knew about the trick steps, and the changing staircases, and was merely going on automatic as he followed. He registered that the password was 'Dung Bombs' and entered.

He didn't stop to speak with his room mates after he had ascended the staircase, but simply marked his page and went to bed.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur. Harry got up early, and went for a run. The most convenient location was inside the Room of Requirements, a room he discovered with the help of Dobby the house-elf last year. It immediately transformed into a very large track for Harry to run, with a strong horizontal bar in the middle of the field for chin ups, soft grass for sit ups and a shallow pit he could do push ups over without bruising his nose. As always, he had a book in front of his face. The good thing about being back at Hogwarts, was that he was allowed to use magic, so there was no penalty for making a book levitate in front of his face so his hands were free, as long as he made the books do that before stepping into the hallways and corridors.

The teachers spent the first week or so revising the important things from their first five years, and going over what was the most common errors made during the OWLs.

Hermione was greatly annoyed that the teachers asked Harry, who always seemed to know the answer to their questions, first instead of her. The reason was mostly that Harry hardly ever actively participated in class, and they were eager to encourage him to keep up this phase in behaviour, although Snape grasped those chances to try and humiliate Harry by asking impossibly difficult questions about things they weren't supposed to even know about until the end of this year. As a result, Harry also earned a few points, although Snape deducted points from Harry for being a know-it-all. Professor Binns was merely shocked that one of his students actually asked questions in his class, something that had apparently only happened once, and that was during Harry's second year when Hermione had asked about the Chamber of Secrets. The more observant of the students noticed that most of Harry's questions were about the Goblin Rebellions, and the strategies behind the winning battles. Those even more observant would notice that Harry committed the strategies to memory as he heard them.

The second night back, Hermione had gone to professor McGonagall about the Defence Association, and gotten the approval of both her and Dumbledore to continue the club. The following day at dinner, Dumbledore made it official.

'It has come to my attention that some students wished to continue a study group in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and named the group the Defence Association. They have been a busy group, and their members gained very respectable marks in their end of year exams, whichever form it came in,' at this, Dumbledore beamed across the Great Hall. 'I have been handed their planned training schedule for this year, and I must say that this club is a good idea, however,' Dumbledore's gaze lingered at Harry's stooped form as he read a book from the Library about Spell Creations, 'I have decided that this club shall not go unchallenged. With this in mind, I have reinstated the Duelling Club, under the combined supervision of our excellent Charms professor Filius Flitwick, a great duellist in his youth, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

This idea seemed to stir some interest among the students.

'Now, as not to have them both doing the exact same thing, no student is allowed to join _both_ clubs. And to give them a goal, we will hold a little contest between the two clubs at the end of the year. Both clubs will choose a Captain, unless they already have. Each group will have their Captain and eleven other random members in the contest.'

After this announcement was made, the old members of the DA sought out Harry, Hermione and Ron at once to hear about the meeting arrangements, not many of them like the idea of meeting twice a day, but Hermione's argument of Voldemort being openly in power, and that two of their members had barely managed to hold back Death Eaters in an attack, managed to convince them that it was necessary to train that hard to survive.

So it was that the following morning a group of tired students showed up at the Room of Requirements for running, with hurdles to jump, water pits to swing across with rope, walls to climb, pins to avoid, followed by an hour of dodge ball.

'No, Neville, you're supposed to either jump aside when the ball comes at you, or catch it, not stand there and do nothing!' Hermione corrected. 'The whole purpose of playing this sport is to train reflexes and to seize opportunity, or dodge what you can't handle!'

'How is this training?' huffed Justin Finch-Fletchley as the game came to a temporary pause for further explanations of the game.

'Hermione just told you,' Harry stated, not wanting to deal with annoyed wizards. 'You gain slightly improved reflexes, and the ball can represent a curse that you either have to block or dodge. Each side can be hit from behind if they aren't careful, and it keeps you on your toes, not to mention it isn't all that boring.'

The others agreed to the statement, and saw the reasoning behind it. It was always best to learn through games, because then it stuck more easily, and didn't seem like such a chore.

Hermione encouraged their members to do their homework during any spare moment in class to shorten down on their load in the evening, as there was a second meeting before dinner, where they were paired up like the year before to revise or learn new spells, curses, jinxes, and hexes used for duelling, followed by being divided into uneven groups in varying number of groups before they were sent into random parts of a maze the Room of Requirements set up, with traps and dead ends built in. The teams that made it out of the maze were allowed to go to dinner, but the tricky part was that they had to duel with anyone from opposing groups if they saw them.

'This is madness! How is this training!' demanded Ron as he made it to the exit. His demand was voiced by several others before Harry chose to answer.

'It is to make you aware of your environment, and to teach you that not all fights are even, and not everyone you meet are your allies.'

This answer sobered up a few of them, who saw the reasoning behind it.

'Anyway,' Hermione interrupted, 'we need new members, because I hear the Duelling Club has recruited nearly thirty members, and the number is rising.'

'And how do you suggest we do that?' asked Ron, who was in a slightly bad mood from having been worked so hard and not having had dinner yet. 'Anyone we recruit could be a Death Eater in training, and if we accepted them, it would defeat the whole purpose of learning to defend ourselves from them, as they would know the extent of out training.'

'I'm certain we could find a way,' Hermione stated confidently.

'Fawkes,' Harry mused aloud. 'We could borrow Fawkes to see whom to trust.'

It was a generally tired and worn group that trouped into the Great Hall for supper, but Harry showed none of these symptoms, and marched straight for the Head Table, stopping before Dumbledore.

'Headmaster, I would like to ask the favour of borrowing Fawkes for a few evenings to sort out new members for the Defence Association.' He stated formally and loud enough for anyone who wished to hear. 'I assure you that no harm will come to him, and that he will be treated with utmost respect.'

Dumbledore seemed to already know the question was coming, and merely smiled in his usual way, and nodded.

'Of course, Mr Potter,' he declared, 'Fawkes will meet you during your next afternoon training session.'

* * *

Life became surprisingly routine after that. Getting up early, run through the obstacle course a few times followed by a couple of games of dodge ball before breakfast (Harry followed his own training plan in addition to that of the DA, to prepare himself for Voldemort). They would then have breakfast and go to class. Harry and Hermione competed about answering questions in class, earning their house a great deal of points for being right. After classes, the DA would meet in the Room of Requirements where they had recruited their new members, raising their numbers from a mere score to nearly three. There they would go through defensive and offensive spells, curses, jinxes and hexes in pairs for an hour and a half before the maze was erected, shaped differently each time. After supper, they would run through their assignments as best they could, although Harry and Hermione finished mostly in class when they were done with their subjects.

To begin with, the new recruits of the DA complained about the pace and amount of work required to be in this group, but it was pointed out that this was not a compulsory group, and they were free to leave at any time, but the amount and pace were set to prepare them for the war that was raging in the magical world. This made a few of them shut up, and grit their teeth through it, but there were about five that left them by the end of a week.

Ron and Ginny found it more stressing, as they had Quidditch practice after supper, and had even less time to do their assignments. This was very frustrating for Ron, as he always postponed his assignments to the night before they were due, something Hermione and Ginny both chastised him on.

Soon September died, and October came. The DA members, at first clumsy and out of shape, became more used to the pace, and didn't tire as easily. They learned Hermione's assignment plan easily, and hardly any of them had trouble with delivering them on time or with decent results. Harry upped his personal training to include certain weight lifting machines or tread mills, to increase his speed and strength, not to mention his endurance. Ron thought him mad to be so involved in training and studying, and often voiced his opinion.

Ginny had found school without Fred and George boring, so she started taking it upon herself to become the school prankster, arranging discreet pranks around school as she commuted between classes and meals. Once in a while, the odd student would come into the Great Hall completely covered in dung from a huge explosion of a dung bomb, and other times they would come in coloured completely in some random colour. Harry was of course blamed for this, as both the Slytherin and Gryffindor Heads of House had been present at his birthday party when he received a sample of every Weasley Wizarding Wheezes product from the Weasley twins. Fortunately, Harry always had an alibi and witnesses, so nothing stuck, but they were always suspicious.

In Transfiguration, they started having a more detailed description of the Animagus process than they had been explained in their third year.

'Now, becoming an Animagus takes time, effort, and pain,' professor McGonagall started. 'Not many bother to become an Animagus, because of just that. It takes dedication to the subject, effort to pull off, and a great tolerance for the pains of your internal organs, muscles and bones rearranging and changing into those of your chosen animal. Of course, repetition is the key, as the pain dulls eventually until you hardly notice it,' at this, she vanished, and a serious looking cat sat in her place before she returned in the place of the cat. 'This is one of the reasons why the Ministry keeps such close watch on those that decide to study this branch of Transfiguration, as the pains may cause the witch or wizard to lose their minds and become fully animal.'

Harry and Hermione scribbled down every word said, and every action taken.

'To start the change, one normally has to take a certain potion similar to that of the Polyjuice Potion, unless one is a natural who has it in their genes. The process of a natural Animagus starts by calming down, getting in touch with one's core, so to speak, and let it tell one what shape one has through visions.'

Without knowing it, everyone in class stopped writing to try what she was saying.

Harry, who had studied the art of Occlumency on the side, found it very easy to calm down and get in touch with his inner self. Before he knew it, a jungle appeared before his mind's eye, dark and with vegetation so thick that one had to hack at it for several minutes to get a step forward. A pair of solid green eyes lit up in the darkness, peering into his very soul. Slowly, the shadow seemed to solidify and stalk closer at an increasing pace before a great black cat lunged at him.

An inhuman roar caused everyone in class to jump and look at Harry, who had fallen from his chair and was cowering in a heap. Everyone could see his breathing being erratic and something slender and black coiled out from under Harry's robes before attaching itself to Hermione's ankle.

Professor McGonagall rushed over, trying to decide whether to lecture Harry on disrupting her class or calm the obviously distressed boy.

They managed to turn Harry over, and everyone in class gasped as they lay eyes on the transformed Harry Potter.

Where Harry's body had been small and fairly muscular after his summer, the new one was large and bulging, although it radiated limber grace and speed. The black rope that had grabbed onto Hermione's ankle was a tail as black as night. Harry's hands were thicker and stubbier, a thick layer of fur covering all but the palm which was covered in thick pads, where his fingernails had been, a glint of hidden claws were visible. His shoes had been ripped open, and sported a similar design to his hands, black fur all over, and black pads on the underside of his toes and the front of his foot, and hidden claws in place of his toenails. Harry's previously overly large clothing under the robes was straining against his suddenly sprouted foot and a half of height combined with muscle. But the most disturbing was that Harry's head had changed from a human's to a feline's. Pitch black fur covering the feline head except for on the forehead, where a lightning bolt scar was barely visibly cut into the skin. His glasses were gone, and his hands were covering his eyes as he had curled up in a foetal position, thrashing and rocking in combined pain and fear.

* * *

His senses were running wild. He could hear the heartbeat of everyone present, pounding like hammers on anvils in his head. He could taste the air on his tongue and smell everything. There was a smell of fear wafting about the large room. And there was something else … a very nearby female was in heat … he could smell it. The effect on him was beyond him, and his body reacted like any normal teenage body does to the sight of a naked and attractive woman. He was aroused. He strived to reign in the desire and need to plant his seed, using every Occlumency exorcise he could remember. The scent of the female's shampoo helped Harry identify her, and caused him to strive even harder. It would not do to ravage his best friend, least of all against her will and in front of the entire class.

'Mr Potter, please calm down so we may fully see the extent of your change!' the normally calm professor nearly pleaded.

'Harry, let us see, please!' Hermione pleaded openly, ignoring the tail curled firmly around her leg.

The words of them both caused Harry to remove his hands from his eyes and look up at them, fear and confusion written across his face. He saw the shocked faces of his friends and professor, and tried to ask how bad it was, but his vocal cords would not cooperate, and all that came out was a form of mew, a very deep and scary mew, but a mew nonetheless.

'As I feared,' professor McGonagall sighed, 'Mr Potter is a natural Animagus and triggered his change,' she grabbed one of his arms and attempted to hoist him to his feet, without success. 'Ms Granger, Mr Weasley, would you give a hand, I need to get Mr Potter to the hospital wing. Class dismissed for today! Remember that the essay about the Animagus transformation is due next week!'

Hermione nodded and assisted in raising Harry from the ground, making Harry lean heavily on her shoulder and surprising him that he surpassed her greatly in height, easily fitting her shoulder under his arm. Even Ron who had taken up support under Harry's other arm fit easily under the arm, which in itself was quite a feat, as Ron was the tallest of the three, topping Harry with a head and neck, or at least before this happened.

Harry drunkenly put his feet in front of each other as his two friends struggled to support his increased weight. Hovering behind them was their worried Head of House. A few students that were commuting between classes were scared stiff at the sight of what appeared to be a werebeast looming down the corridor, headed for the hospital wing.

'Madam Pomfrey!' Hermione screamed as soon as they were within the doors of the hospital wing. 'Come quickly!'

'Ms Granger?' the reply came from the room used as madam Pomfrey's office. 'What is the meaning of this?' the matron came out of her office with a stern expression. 'Mr Potter! What have you gotten yourself into this time?'

'How did you know-?' asked Ron as he and Hermione dumped Harry onto a free bed.

'I know Mr Potter's friends would never come in her without him, and as there is only three of you and Minerva present …' she interrupted and quickly came over to start the examinations. 'Hmm …' madam Pomfrey's wand came out into her hand and a series of tests were performed in a routine manner. 'No fractions, no internal malfunctions or disabilities … Mr Potter, I believe you are a very lucky individual, most people would not be in completely working order after being halfway transformed into an animal … how was it done?' she asked professor McGonagall. 'What spell was used, and why haven't you tried to correct it? On that matter, aren't human transfiguration curses something you save for the seventh years?'

'Usually, yes,' agreed the strict professor. 'But this is a botched Animagus transformation of a naturally gifted. I tried the reversing spell as discreetly as possible, but nothing happened.'

The matron listened on half an ear as she continued to examine Harry. As she finished, she clucked her tongue and raised a brow as she saw where Harry's tail lead to. 'Ms Granger, is there a reason for your new ankle decoration?'

Everyone looked down to Hermione's exposed foot to see the end of the tail curled around like a snake coiled for attack.

'How did that happen?' asked Hermione in genuine puzzlement.

Harry tried to say that he had no idea, but it only came out like a hostile sound, although his gesture came out partially understood.

'OK, we won't remove it!' madam Pomfrey said and jumped away from it.

'That's not what he meant,' corrected professor McGonagall. 'His exact meaning, if I understood the dialect, was; "I have no idea how that got there", but it is an odd dialect …'

Harry nodded in agreement to her statement.

'How did you know?' asked Ron in awe.

'Mr Weasley, if you had paid attention in class, you would know that any Animagus can to some degree understand other animals, but mostly those of the same species as your own form,' she explained sternly. 'Mr Potter's form is obviously that of a panther, which is in the feline family if you didn't already know. However, that does explain his sudden growth spurt. Panthers are usually larger than humans, if they decided to walk on their hind legs …'

'Back to the point,' madam Pomfrey interrupted, 'there is nothing I can do about that kind of accident.'

Harry yowled in a low tone.

'Yes it might seem like that to begin with, Potter,' the Transfigurations Professor agreed.

'What did he say?' asked Hermione and looked between her ankle and Harry.

'He said; "The tail has a mind of its own," but that isn't really so, he just needs time to learn control. Until then, Potter, you will be having lessons with me during weekends, on becoming an Animagus, as that seems to be the only option left to restore you to normal, and at the same time will keep you within the limitations of the law concerning Animagus transformation.'

'Oh,' Hermione replied and looked down at her ankle. Harry's ear twisted on his head.

'My, my, Mr Potter, you do have a habit of landing yourself in trouble,' chirped a cheerful voice from the doorway. Harry turned towards the door to see the headmaster, looking as though the universe had just told him a greatly amusing story.

'Headmaster!' Hermione greeted, and tried to cover up the tightly clenching tail with the bottom of her robes. 'What brings you here?'

'Poppy and I were holding a short conversation through the fireplace when your voice cut it short, Ms Granger,' he commented with the same amused smile. 'Of course, I had to come down and see what my students had gotten themselves into, because of the urgency indicated in your voice.'

Harry yowled slightly at the headmaster, trying to convey his concerns.

'I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but the feline language is one I do not master, however,' the man opened a pocket in his robes and dug out what appeared to be a snuffbox which he opened to pull out something before putting the box away. 'This may help,' the small object looked like a tooth pick, until Dumbledore enlarged it, then it was clear to be a hand held sign post with a blank slate. 'They are usually reserved for dumb students. Merely think of what you wish to say while holding it; and it will be written, although you may have to turn it over if you have a lot to say. The other side will pick up where the first began and wipe a clean slate of the first side to start over again.'

Hermione stared at the sign as Dumbledore handed it to Harry.

What's the matter, Hermione? Harry's sign read, then it was flipped over to the other side, Didn't _Hogwarts; A History_ mention it?

'No, I didn't,' Hermione huffed, kicking Ron in the shins as he guffawed at the written sentence.

Harry was satisfied with the sign, and started purring deeply without any control as he looked upon the now blank front.

'Yes, it is quite a novel invention,' Dumbledore agreed in a polite chuckle. 'Had to use one myself at one time … I had just finished my NEWTs, and was experimenting with a silencing charm. The thing wouldn't be removed by any other means so it had to be worn off through time … but, I think I shall have to prepare the school for your little situation, so you won't be cursed to bits as you walk through the corridors, mistaken for a werebeast on the loose.'

Professor! Harry's sign read in great big letters. What about my magic? I can't cast a spell if I can't speak the incantation!

'On the contrary, Harry,' the cheerful headmaster corrected. 'I believe you saw an excellent example of wordless spellwork in the Department of Mysteries … the spell that scarred Ms Granger, here. It can easily be accomplished with practice, even if the spells will be about one hundredth of original strength, but that too can be increased with enough practice and mental discipline.'

'In other words, Harry's buggered,' Ron summarised.

'Ron!' Hermione shrieked, 'You know perfectly well that Harry has at least above normal mental discipline!'

'He'd have to, living with those horrible Muggles for all those years without killing them …' Ron muttered.

'Not to worry, Harry,' assured Dumbledore, 'you'll soon get the hang of it. It's not all that difficult to do, I had to learn it myself.'

Harry growled a bit in irritation and kept the sign to himself.

'Now, if you excuse me -' Dumbledore stated and left the hospital wing, whistling a merry tune. Harry could have sworn that it was the theme music of one of those first videogames Dudley had gotten, complete with this tiny fat man with a moustache that killed mushrooms by trampling on them, and sending a turtle shell reeling. Harry hadn't been allowed to watch for too long before he was sent away.

I feel like that cartoon … with that desert dog that always chases that ostrich … Harry wrote, growling a bit in irritation at not being able to speak properly.

'That's a coyote and a roadrunner, not a dog and an ostrich,' Hermione corrected. 'But you are right, you do look like him with that sign in your hand. All you'd have to do now, was to plan poorly executed traps for Slytherins and end up the victim of them instead of the Slytherins.'

Hahaha. Harry wrote, but had his ears flattened and eyes half lidded, showing the sarcasm.

While Hermione giggled at the imagined scene, Ron was sharing a confused look with madam Pomfrey and professor McGonagall.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was released from the hospital wing not long after the headmaster had left, as there was nothing modern magical medicine could do for him. His strength had returned to him by then, so he was walking on his own as the trio made their way back to Gryffindor tower. Several unfortunate first years on the way back from class were severely scared by Harry's apparently looming figure, and bestial features as he was walking down the corridors. Some screamed and ran for their lives, others froze or fainted.

Harry didn't bother with the DA training before dinner, as he was trying to get used to his new body. His tail eventually let go of Hermione when she stepped out of its grasp, and instead it curled around his waist. Ron had joked about getting him a giant litter box for a toilet, until Hermione smacked him over the head scolded him on being insensitive. Harry didn't care, and found the largest winter cloak he could from his wardrobe, donning it to obscure most of his changes so he wouldn't scare the entire school upon entering the Great Hall for supper.

It was a good thing that most from their year had witnessed Harry's incident, as well as seen the result, so they were more sympathetic, and went to inform the DA that they were to continue as normal, but working from books to find new curses instead of having Harry lecture them. Ron went in Harry's stead to supervise, while Hermione remained behind in the common room, supposedly to finish up her Potions essay on Veritaserum. Harry suspected that she only remained behind to assure herself that he didn't scare the first years too badly with his appearance. She was a Prefect after all, and she took her duties seriously, unlike Ron.

Harry spent the time reading up on his Magical Creatures, and ignored the stares his hooded cloak got from the younger students. Maybe it was time to have the Room of Requirements manifest phantom creatures to appear in the maze, maybe to have phantom instructors in physical combat. It was a very interesting concept, one he intended to fulfil if the Room of Requirements allowed it. It probably would, as long as all instructors and creatures were a generic representation within their species and educational field. Recreating specific beings would probably either rob the existing being of mind or soul or steal a passed soul from its rightful rest. Maybe the Room of Requirements could simply conjure solid illusions of creatures and persons, the idea held some fascination, and Harry was seriously debating whether he should do it.

Of course, Harry still had to keep control over himself, his instincts around the massive amount of pheromones floating about Hermione, and the fact that she was in heat made his instincts want to jump her and plant his seed, procreate with as much passion and for as long as possible. It took all his Occlumency skills not to give into these urges, as they were only the result of his botched transformation. Normally, Occlumency could not protect from what came from within, but the basics helped keep his hormones from taking over.

Dinner soon came, and Harry stood up to face the rest of the school.

Hermione stood with him, and came over to him. Both noticed that Harry's tail uncoiled from around Harry's waist to wrap around Hermione's as soon as she got within range. An apologetic look from Harry was all he needed for Hermione to shake her head, indicating that she wasn't upset with him for something he couldn't control.

'Just don't try and take advantage of this situation,' she warned him.

What do you mean, "take advantage of"? asked Harry, tilting his head in confusion.

'Er … you know …'

You feel that I will ravage you because you are currently ovulating and at your most fertile state for a month? asked Harry while putting on his most innocent face.

Hermione's response was to blush furiously.

Although it is very tempting, I do have some control on my emotions, Hermione. he stated as they continued their walk, A side effect of a fledging at Occlumency.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' Hermione sighed, still bright red. 'I just remember how I reacted when I was in a similar state in second year, it is very difficult to resist some urges that come with being feline, as I should know. I nearly plead madam Pomfrey to tie me down to keep me from licking myself clean. And I just don't want you doing something you might regret.'

If I do go berserk, stun me before I do any harm, Harry plead, seeing the logic.

Hermione nodded wordlessly as they arrived before the doors of the Great Hall. Harry huffed in nervousness, and pushed the doors open.

'- now, Mr Potter is not dangerous as of yet, nor is he a werebeast despite his appearances, but do not provoke him, as he still has some animal instincts, and those could take over during a moment of heightened emotions,' Dumbledore appeared to have finished his warning, luckily, as it would save Harry a great deal of scrutiny before his uncloaking. 'Here he is now, Mr Potter, if you would be so kind …'

Harry growled in irritation, startling a few blessedly ignorant students, before reaching for his cowl and pulling it back, revealing his face. A chorus of gasps rang through the entire Great Hall, even some of the professors gasped at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. Growling once more in irritation, Harry grabbed the closest Gryffindor seat he could find, and set about ignoring everyone, and shuffling food onto his plate. This action scared a few of the younger students, as they had yet to become as accustomed to strange happenings as the elder ones. Hermione gingerly sat, making sure that the coiled tail wasn't sat on, as felines tend to be rather hot tempered when something lands on their tail.

As Harry ate, even if he tried to ignore it, he heard the snickers of the Slytherin table, and the whispers of nearly everyone on the Great Hall. Everything he heard was either in mockery of him, or sympathy, and he didn't like it.

He shoved the fork he had scraped up his food on into his mouth, and nearly instantly spat it back up again. He studied the wet food for anything that could have caused this reaction.

'Panthers usually eat meat, and only the occasional fruit,' Hermione supplied as she tried not to look at Harry's plate.

Yowling in irritation, Harry tried to vanish the mess he'd made, but could not perform the spell. He looked piteously at his best friend.

'Fine,' she sighed and waved her wand at the mess. '_Evanesco_!'

Thanks, Harry wrote before carefully selecting meats from what was available and sniffing fruits to see what made his stomach churn. This way, he could avoid such episodes again.

Days passed, and Harry grew more and more frustrated. He was simply unable to perform magic without the incantation, he had tried throughout his lessons, he had tried during the DA meetings, and he had tried before going to bed, it was useless.

Harry was about to attack something physically when he felt his tail move, and coil around something slender.

'I'm sorry if I startled you,' Hermione apologised and tried to retract her arm.

Harry tried to make the tail let go of her arm, but it refused to listen, and he was forced to look desperately up at his best friend. She sighed in resignation and sat down close at hand, as her was wrapped up in a strong and flexible tail.

'I see you are having trouble with your casting …' she stated. Harry growled his ascent. 'Maybe you should relax a bit, you're working too hard. Take a moment to get a better perspective and then return to it. I do that myself when I get stuck on an essay …'

You've got a point, Harry agreed and let himself fall back into the chair, covering his face with his massive hands while yawning widely. Sometimes you can't see a forest because of all the trees …

'What?'

A saying I heard somewhere … Harry explained and rubbed his neck. It means that sometimes you look for something so hard, you can't see the obvious clues right in front of you.

'That makes some sense …' agreed Hermione.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, staring into the warm fire of the common room. Wordlessly, Hermione's captured hand reached for Harry's head, and started scratching behind his ears. Harry started purring in delight at the tingling feeling this spread from his scalp, and subconsciously leaned his head into the hand. This was how Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the wizarding world's hero was found by Ron, curled up in his cushy chair, purring up a storm – this had several of the younger students in the common room shiver in suppressed fear from the monstrous sound – as Hermione calmly scratched behind his ears as she read over her essays.

'What is going on here?' asked the redhead sternly.

'Oh, hi Ron,' greeted Hermione, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. 'Harry needed some distraction from his work so he could get a fresh view when he returns to it.'

It was a simple and factual sentence, nothing implying anything more, or anything hidden.

'Really?' asked Ron, slightly disbelieving. 'Hermione, I need some help with my Herbology essay, could you come with me to the library and look it over? Madam Pince wouldn't allow me to bring the reference books for some reason …'

'Of course,' Hermione agreed at once. 'Glad to see you are finally taking your studies seriously.'

Harry was once more left to his own devices, and wasn't all too happy about Hermione having to leave – not that he fancied her, but she knew exactly where to scratch for the best effect – and that he now had to face the daunting task of trying to perform magic without uttering the incantation.

In frustration, Harry banged his fist into the table, and saw that the feather he had tried to levitate caught fire from nothing.

As the feather burned, Harry watched it in fascination. He had lit it without saying a word, just like he had blown open the lock of the cupboard containing his school things during the summer before his third year. Was that all it took? Powerful emotions? Harry gave it another go with a new feather, after brushing away the ashes of the previous one. As he thought of the spell and its effects, he envisioned his happiest memory, his most recent birthday.

Harry performed the wand movements, and saw the feather twitch, although it might have been air that moved it. He tried again, thinking back on the feeling of having his feline head scratched, and performed the movements. The feather rose from the table, making Harry very ecstatic, although the moment he lost concentration the feather made an unexpected move, and shot into the air. A sharp thud sounded through the common room, making everyone look up at the source … a pearly white feather sticking halfway into the ceiling. Harry grinned sheepishly – or as sheepishly as a feline is able to – and returned his attention to the table, knowing that the attention of the others would go away soon enough.

Sure enough, not five minutes passed before Harry was completely ignored by everyone.

Harry on the other hand, was thinking through what had happened, and was ready to try again. However, his tests were interrupted by the slam of the portrait, and the stomping of Hermione as she entered the common room, looking angry enough to scare off demonic beings. Her gaze was nearly immediately shifted to Harry, and it was all he could do not to flinch and hide from the murderous look.

'Did you know?' she demanded angrily and stomped up to him, her face stopping mere inches from his nose, tickling his whiskers.

Harry had no idea of what she was talking about, but didn't know how to best go about phrasing this.

'You didn't, did you?' it baffled Harry how Hermione was able to read his expression through all this fur and his new face. Harry looked expectantly at Hermione as she backed off to the chair she had previously occupied, waiting for her to explain herself. Before she could, the portrait opened once more to admit a thoroughly embarrassed Ron, who wore a near glowing red imprint of an open hand on his face as he stomped through the common room, red ears and with his essay and books messily crumbled under his arm.

Harry looked from the retreating figure of Ron, to Hermione who had defiantly stared into the fire from the moment Ron entered. He did not look away until she looked up at his questioning expression.

'Fine,' she sighed after a few moments of their little staring match. 'You know that Ron asked me to help him with his essay …' she stated, Harry nodded in understanding. 'Well, he had an ulterior motive. He did have an essay to write, and those books were restricted to the Library, so he was truthful in that part … when I had read his essay through, I looked up at him to find out what he had problems with, and he tried to kiss me! He didn't even ask first! He even had the nerve to claim that I had been hinting all summer that I liked him, and that he was reacting on my hints. When I denied it, he said that it didn't matter, that it was unavoidable that I ended up with him, that it was a universal rule in a triangle friendship like ours. He was acting so arrogant – I just couldn't handle it and reacted out of instinct, the less violent of two choices, although he went on like I had kicked him in the pills and he would never have children.'

She sighed and fell back onto her chair, looking up at the ceiling.

'I think I've seriously damaged my friendship with Ron …' she sighed eventually. 'If I never speak to him again, he will think I am brooding, and if I ask forgiveness for the slap or forgive him, he will take it as a sign that I fancy him. What should I do?'

Harry was furious with Ron for trying something like this, and had a good mind to follow him up to their dormitory and beat the daylights out of him, but settled for growling in restrained temper and shrugging his shoulders to Hermione's question.

You are my advisor for emotional problems, he wrote, I have no idea how to fix your problem other than let Ron come to his senses without your help, and to make sure, when he does, that you have him understand your feelings.

Hermione snickered after a moment.

What?

'For someone as clueless about emotions as you claim to be, you certainly know how to handle things …' Hermione mused.

I try, Harry commented.

Hermione in turn smirked and reached out her hand, scratching him behind the ears and making him nearly melt into his chair in delight. It is said that petting a cat is very therapeutic, and calming, and if Harry had not been enjoying this so much, he would see the anger slowly drain away from his friend's face, and be replaced by a slightly happy one.

Once more, his purrs startled and unsettled several students.

'You're just a big kitty-cat aren't you?' Hermione teased affectionately, cooing at him. This in turn caused a few other females in the common room to become a lot braver and copy her in her petting and scratching. Harry was in heaven, and his animal instincts were in control, causing him to simply stretch himself as much as possible over the arms of his chair so more hands would fit. This could wipe Harry's mind of the disastrous meeting he had with Hagrid the first time he met him in the corridor after the incident that made Harry how he was currently. The friendly half-giant had treated Harry very much in the same way as he had with Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, and Buckbeak the Hippogriff, and tried to pat Harry. With that man's experience with beasts one would think he knew how to pet a cat, but unfortunately, he was allergic, and when he tried to pat Harry, he rubbed Harry's fur the wrong way before sneezing at him with enough force to blow him backwards several feet, luckily dry. No, this was the way it was supposed to be, this was the right way to do things, and he could stay in this paradise forever.

'Mr Potter, would you be so kind as to tell me why you missed your appointment at my office?'

Harry's eyes opened instantly in recognition of the voice of his Head of House, and nearly dislodged several pairs of hands as he started.

'Ah, scratching,' professor McGonagall sighed in remembrance, 'the feline's ultimate weakness next to a beam of warm sunlight to laze about in and a ball of yarn to chase.' Harry started purring again, as a Charlotte Creevey started tickling his stomach. 'Well, I see there's little concentration to gather here, Miss Granger, make sure Mr Potter gets to my office after breakfast tomorrow.'

'Of course, Professor,' Hermione readily agreed.

'And let him be allowed to do his assignments before bed, will you?'

'No problems, Professor,' chirped Ginny in as she joined in on the fun, 'Harry always finishes his assignments before dinner every day. He was probably done with them yesterday.'

* * *

It was near noon when Harry got out from Professor McGonagall's office from the tiring and fruitless Animagi lessons. Hermione met him at the door, and grabbed his arm, guiding him somewhere without it having been arranged.

Help! Kidnapping! Harry wrote jokingly, waving the sign about wildly, nearly knocking down a suit of armour.

'Stop being so melodramatic,' Hermione giggled and gave his arm a light punch.

Where are you taking me? Harry asked, still in a slightly tired and joking mood. You don't plan on ravishing me, do you?

'No, not at all,' she reassured him while suppressing a smile, 'I just thought you'd like to visit Dobby, as it has been a while since the last time.'

A nice thought, but if I went into the kitchen in this state, I'd start a panic, Harry wrote, gesturing to himself. Harry was relieved that Hermione's fertility cycle had moved on, as his instincts weren't as strong now as they were during those two days she was at her most fertile. He idly wondered why he wasn't reacting to any of the other females at Hogwarts, but reasoned that they weren't at that stage of their cycle yet.

'I already thought of that, and planned on going in for you and retrieve Dobby for you to visit in the corridor outside the Still-Life,' Hermione countered.

Harry couldn't argue with that, but was still a bit weary. Hermione lead him through corridors and passageways until they stood before a large still life of a bowl of fruit.

'Wait here,' Hermione instructed and wiggled her arm free from Harry's tail before entering the doorway behind the painting.

Harry considered disobeying her as he stood there in wait of Hermione and Dobby, but thought of how Hermione had treated Ron when he did something that she disagreed with, and stood his ground.

'Master Harry Potter, sir!' squeaked an excited voice before Harry was hugged around the legs by a pile of laundry. 'Master is a great wizard to come see poor Dobby when he himself in such a horrible condition!'

Hullo, Dobby, Harry wrote as he tried to stay upright. How are you and Winky?

'Winky very happy again, asked Dumbledore about serving Harry Potter, we did. Master Harry Potter is not angry, is he?' Dobby looked up at Harry with those great big eyes, and Harry couldn't be mad at the house-elf even if he had killed his family and torched a church. Besides, what did it hurt to have two house-elves help him while he was in this condition, it's not like they had become his personal servants …

For whatever reason, I can't stay mad at you, Dobby, and you've done nothing wrong, Harry wrote. I'm glad that you two are coping so well.

'Thank you, generous master Harry Potter, sir!' the small creature squeaked excitedly.

'Yes, master is very generous,' agreed a more timid squeaky voice from the open doorway. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise, not having seen Winky arrive. 'We is glad to serve.'

* * *

Time moves on, as it unfortunately has a habit of doing when one has things to worry about. Harry was becoming very adept at speechless magic, managing to perform the same tasks as any other student within the middle of November, although his spells' power left a little to be desired, and he had gotten a fair bit of control of all his appendages. But for some odd reason, his tail would not listen to his commands when it came to curling around Hermione's wrists, waist of ankles. It was very odd, he was able to pick up a thin needle from the hard table with that tail, he could lift one end of his trunk with it, but he could not get it to let go of Hermione.

Another thing was that he noticed his spells could, occasionally, be done even without a wand. He only tested this theory when he was completely alone, and watched Dobby or Winky as they performed wandless magic, to see if there were similarities between his feat and theirs. He had not yet told Hermione of his discovery, and planned on keeping it that way until he could control it. The DA training was stepped up before dinner, to include an hour of physical combat with illusions of martial arts instructors. The maze Harry had the Room of Requirements set up, now also included solid illusions of creatures they needed to get past, something that had scared the wits out of several of them the first time they had seen a dementor appear around the corner.

Harry and Hermione both moved their way through the library, covering all the subjects they could, and even sneaking into the Restricted Section one night or two to retrieve some books. Things were going splendidly. The Inquisitorial Squad had mostly joined the Duelling Club on Malfoy's orders, as Malfoy had joined, and tempted with the idea of beating Harry and his pathetic little fans into the dust come the duelling contest at the end of the full year.

The first Quidditch game of the year was played, and Harry watched with Hermione from the stands. Ron and Ginny seemed miserable because of Harry's ban from the sport, but had managed to work at cooperating with their new team mates instead. Ginny had given up her position as Seeker in favour of becoming a Chaser, something she seemed to be a natural at.

Soon the time came for students remaining to write their names up on a list passed around by their Head of House. Harry signed up as usual, and was surprised to find that Hermione and the younger Weasleys also had done so. Hermione reasoned that her parents had realised she was safer at Hogwarts than she would be with them, and were willing to spend a Christmas without her if she would be safe from the war and terrible people they had been informed about. Ron and Ginny would remain because their parents would spend Christmas with Bill, Fleur Delacour and her family. It came as a slight shock to Harry to hear about their engagement, as he didn't know they knew each other that well.

The first snow of the season fell in thick flakes. Within one day, it reached as high as the knees of the poor sixth year students that had Care of Magical Creatures at Hagrid's hut. Harry was lucky that his fur insulated him somewhat against the cold, but he took a longer time in drying than the others because of it as well.

Harry's Animagus lessons were as fruitless as they had been, he still had not changed a hair of fur on his body, but was adapting.

It was only a few days left before Christmas started when Harry got a note that stated his presence was wanted at the office of his Head of House.

Wondering if he had done something wrong, or if Ginny had been planting evidence against him with her pranks, Harry made his way to professor McGonagall's office. His presence and looks had become part of the normalcy in the school, and he hardly scared as many children as he used to, prowling down the corridors, although most of the students were still skittish around him, because he looked like he would pounce at the drop of a hat.

Harry finally arrived outside the office he never really liked visiting, and he had a queasy feeling that he would not like this visit any better. He knocked firmly on the door.

'Yes?'

As Harry was unable to answer, he merely knocked once more.

'Yes?'

The tone of his Transfigurations professor was starting to get annoyed, but once more, Harry knocked.

'If this is a prank, you can look forward to detention, whoever you are!'

Harry heard stomping steps closing in on the door. His instinct told him to flee while he still had the chance, but he remained, even as the door was torn open by a miffed professor McGonagall.

'Oh, it's you, Harry. Come in,' she stated and stepped aside so Harry could enter.

Thank you, professor, Harry wrote and entered, taking the seat in front of the desk, trying not to show how nervous he was.

'Now,' she started, and sat behind her desk, 'to the business at hand. This is for you,' a plain brown envelope was slid across the desk to him. 'Now, as you might have heard around the castle, the first date of the competition is boxing day. Dumbledore will hold a short speech before it starts, then you will all go to your assigned chambers. The last day of the competition is New Years day, and the bell will sound when it is time to bring your contribution to the Quidditch pitch where they will all be judged.'

Huh? Harry was genuinely confused, what on earth was she jabbering about?

'The Ice Sculpturing Competition, Potter,' professor McGonagall declared, 'the last chance to resign from it was a week ago when you could have gone home.'

But – I don't know the first thing about carving ice, I don't even know how to carve wood!

'You should have thought about that before you chose not to resign, now, if you'd please return to your common room, I have other students to inform.'

Harry was shooed out of the office amidst protests and yowling, but it was no use and he soon found himself in the corridor again.

* * *

If one happened to be wandering around the castle, one might be so unlucky as to come across Harry in this furious state. Those few that did, ran for their dear lives and screaming for their mommies. Some nearly ran to their deaths off the changing staircase, but luckily, there were safety measures in place to keep just that from happening.

This was how Harry entered the common room, looking like he was a beast on the prowl, ready to pounce on anything that so much as twitched.

Had anyone been brave enough, they would have mentioned the similarities between Harry's current entrance and Hermione's over two months earlier. As it was, Hermione was studying her notes in an effort to keep up with Harry, and looked up as Harry stormed in.

'Something wrong?' she asked with genuine concern, marking her page so she could dedicate her full attention to him.

Harry growled and tossed his envelope at her, starting to pace the room as he pondered how to resolve this mess. He didn't know how to carve anything but his initials into anything, how was he supposed to cut something out of ice? A silenced snicker caught his attention, and he turned to his best friend. Her face was red and partially covered by her hand as she held the envelope and she was shaking from repressed mirth. Harry growled in annoyance at not being understood.

'This is the problem?' she managed to ask through her snickers. 'You can't carve, neither can I, but I'll try anyway. This isn't serious, Harry, no lives depend on you making the best sculpture … it's just for entertainment, to take our minds off Voldemort.'

Harry calmed down, but was still not happy about the idea.

'If you have such a big problem with not being good enough, read about it, look it up in the Room of Requirements, but sulking won't help a bit,' she lectured and handed him back the envelope.

Harry lowered his head like a scolded child and started considering the possibility that he might be doing this for fun. Hermione was right, this was not supposed to be deadly serious, it was meant to get everyone to stop worrying about the war that was so far simmering and bubbling, waiting to come to a full froth. But what would he make? Only those that jumped in with both feet first would have to worry about it, and if he had a subject before the contest started, he would not have to devote so much of his precious time to figuring that out.

If he was planning to do it simple, he would try to make a sculpture of his house animal, but that was unimaginative. He could try making a Thestral, but so few in school could see them, that they would think he was exaggerating, or they would refrain from going near the carriages again for fear of those hideous creatures pulling them. He could try to make a statue of Dumbledore, but that would be taken as flattery or hero-worship. He couldn't make one of Voldemort, because it might frighten everyone. The saying, "Knowledge is Power" struck him. He could make something that represented knowledge … a book, but that wasn't nearly powerful enough to earn anything more than laughter. Swords could represent power, as people seemed to fear those holding swords. He would keep around those two, as they were the most likely to be his choice.

Not wanting to think any more about it, Harry yowled goodnight to Hermione, though no one else could understand what he meant, and went to bed.

* * *

Christmas morning arrived, and Harry awoke on it for the first time since he arrived without the aid of Ron or Hermione. Ron was still slightly miffed at Hermione, and as Harry sided with her, he was persona non grata until further notice, and therefore was not the victim of polite acts from him. Not that it mattered anyway, Harry was the first to awake, and went silently to the Room of Requirements to train some more.

He was in his two hundreds of lifting weights when the door to the until last year secret room opened to reveal Hermione and Ginny, still in their nightgowns but with robes covering most of them. Fluffy slippers kept their feet somewhat warm.

'I told you he'd be here,' stated Hermione to Ginny and flicked her wand, sending a large pile of wrapped presents into the room. 'He'd continue training even if Voldemort was at Hogwarts' gates declaring his retirement.'

'How much do you think he's lifting right now?' asked the ginger fifth year.

'Hard to tell, the bar moves too quickly to get an accurate number …'

'Oh, what are you? A Muggle or a witch?' huffed Ginny.

'Well, if you know how, then by all means …'

'We haven't covered that kind of thing yet, and as far as I know, only you and Harry would read so much as to actually know it.'

'Fine,' sighed Hermione. 'I'll find out.'

You could just ask me, wrote Harry, holding the sign with his tail.

'No need,' chirped Hermione merrily, '_Weigh it_!' she commanded her wand, pointing at the bar Harry was currently pumping into the air.

_120 kg_.

Harry snorted at the number that appeared in the form of a red ribbon.

It forgot the other half, he commented and finished his set, setting the heavy weights on the ground.

'What?' asked Hermione. 'I did everything right, it can't be the wrong number.'

Your aim was slightly off, you hit to my left, not the exact centre like you were supposed to, Harry corrected as he stretched his torso, back and arms. Since your aim was off, so was the weight.

Hermione blushed at her error before repeating the charm correctly to find Harry was correct.

'Let's not split hairs, sorry Harry, and lets instead get to what we are all here for,' Ginny interrupted solemnly, 'PRESENTS!'

The sudden change took Harry slightly by surprise, and he realised that the huge pile had been divided into three, one for each of them. Ginny had by then squealed and leapt to her own pile, followed by Hermione diving for her own. The sight of two soon-to-be adult women giggling with greedy glee at the presents they had gotten from their family and friends warmed Harry's heart. There were not many occasions for them to relax so completely as this, and Harry felt honoured to be allowed to witness it, although he found the sight of Hermione's exposed leg distracting, and had to turn around for a moment to reign in his hormones. He pointedly avoided looking at the naked leg as he made his way to the third pile, the one that held his name on the labels.

The first present Harry found was from Ron, a fairly small one, but Harry was never one to complain about something as trivial as the size or quantities of his presents, and opened it to find a slightly beaten golden snitch. Obviously the youngest male Weasley had hopes that Harry was able to rejoin the house team.

The next one came from Ginny, a giant box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and an apology because she had been on a date with Dean during the last Hogsmeade visit and only remembered the presents at the last moment. Harry didn't mind, although he could only eat a few select flavours of the candy, and had to sniff them to correctly identify them. It had been a very unpleasant experience to go through a box and identify the various tastes by smell. He shuddered at the memory but gave the redhead a friendly hug in thanks.

The next was the yearly Weasley package from the general Weasley family, meaning those not attending Hogwarts at the time. A new Weasley sweater, with Harry's initials knitted in golden on green. The mince pies smelled very tempting, and Harry was happy that he didn't have to give up all the foods he liked to eat. He never would have thought that he would ever miss the taste of a baked potato with butter and salt on it, or boiled vegetables. He tasted a small piece of one pie, and savoured the meaty taste.

There were a few presents from those in the Order that felt comfortable enough to give Harry presents, Tonks gave him that Weird Sisters t-shirt she promised him, and Lupin got him a scratching post as a gag.

Finally, Harry came to Hermione's present. It was of course a book, but he recognised the title as part of the old saying; "Know something about everything, and everything about something". The title of the book was _Something About Everything_, by an unknown author. He really appreciated this gift, but was unable to express it, as his tail had once more snaked its way to Hermione's limbs, making her aware of the exposed leg, and making them all forget about thanks for a moment. For a fleeting moment, he regretted giving her the revised edition of _Hogwarts; a History_, this regret soon vanished as Hermione squealed in delight and pounced him while thanking him repeatedly.

They are soon finished with their presents, and together float them back to their dormitories. Ron is still asleep, despite it being Christmas Morning, and nearly eight. The unfinished Defence Against the Dark Arts essay was explanation enough for why the stubborn redhead had been awake for so long.

Ginny, being the kind and considerate sister that she was, decided to wake her darling brother for this fine Christmas morning, by pouring a large bucket of icy water mixed with snow from the ledge running around the tower over his head. The startled scream could be heard all the way down to Hogsmeade, but no one batted an eye to it, as it didn't seem to be anything indicating any danger about it. Ron was soaking wet and chasing Ginny through Gryffindor tower yelling threats and promises after her, and leaving a trail of cold water. Harry and Hermione were not bothering to restrain their mirth, and were joined by the few Gryffindors that remained in laughing at the antics youngest Weasley siblings.

Since everyone was awake, Ginny suggested they go to breakfast. Ron did not like this idea, as he had yet to open his presents. This meant that the others left without him, because they were very hungry, and Ron had resisted earlier attempts at more subtle ways of rousing so it was his own fault he hadn't been there to open the presents along with the others.

At breakfast, everyone were speaking with their friends about what they had gotten for Christmas, and the mood was high. Harry soaked in the atmosphere and sat in his usual seat before picking out the meats he found tasted the best. Hermione or Ginny would help him reach some if they were out of his reach. Harry was happy there had been a declination of Death Eater attacks over the past months, but feared that this would mean an attack of a larger scale in the possible future. Christmas was never the same as it was during his first year when he had not been the indirect cause of another human's death, he had been so innocent then, bright eyed and hopeful of a world of new possibilities.

Ron joined them eventually, and raced his way through the meal to catch up.

Harry, Ginny and Hermione watched the red menace stuff his face quickly enough to choke an industrial sized garbage disposal unit. After a long time, Ron finally felt full, and ceased eating, patting his belly with a satisfied sigh.

'That was delicious, nothing quite like the food they serve at Christmas,' he stated to no one in particular. 'What say we have a good old fashioned snowball fight?'

This idea seemed to rouse some excitement among the Gryffindors, and soon those remaining of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were all for the idea as well, all racing to their respective houses to change into heavier clothing. Harry remained for a moment as Dumbledore came walking down between the tables, smiling merrily as he hummed some unknown Christmas carol.

'Harry, merry Christmas to you,' the ancient wizard greeted as he closed in.

And to you, professor, Harry returned. Did you like the socks?

'Very much so,' agreed Dumbledore merrily and pulled at the hem of his robes, revealing a pair of mismatched green and red socks. 'They work very well, and has such natural colours. I may have to start putting socks on my Christmas list.'

Harry nodded and tried to restrain his emotions from showing.

'Well, your friends must be waiting for you,' announced Dumbledore, 'off you trot!'

Harry had no sooner passed the doors from the Great Hall before he was assaulted by clothing, his own.

'Come on, Harry, don't dawdle!' called Hermione, letting him know whom to blame for his current wrestling match.

Harry eventually managed to get himself untangled and slipped into his winter clothing, making sure his tail was wrapped securely around his waist so it wouldn't be trodden on in the mass of white that covered the land.

Firenze generously offered the playful young students to have their mock war in the very large courtyard that Dumbledore had let him build a home in. a hut not all that unlike Hagrid's was erected in a corner of the courtyard, and a path had been tramped down by hooves and feet, leading from the doors to the cabin.

The students automatically split up into two groups, boys versus girls, and piled most of the snow into two large mounds, and fortresses were made of it.

It was a brutal war, projectiles of crystallised water flying between the walls that had been erected to protect the beings on the other side. Each hit was signified by a dull and muffled thud in the snow, and anyone that got pelted ended up screaming in horror as the snow returned to it's liquid state, running coldly down various openings in their protective coverings. Each of these squeamish screams was celebrated by the opposite side of the battlefield, rendering them momentarily defenceless so the other side would take advantage of the opportunity and pelt them again.

After nearly one hour, everyone were freezing, wet, and knew this fight couldn't last much longer. The girls took the initiative, by sending a wave of snowballs to distract the boys, while half of them crept up to the boy's protective wall which they collapsed it over the boys that were getting ready for the return volley.

Harry saw the wall of snow fall, and dove out of the way just in time to escape it. One or two of his students managed the same.

He had hardly regained his bearings when something ploughed into him, sending him tumbling into the knee deep snow, obscuring him nearly completely from view. He felt weight on top of him, and saw Hermione straddling his chest, pinning him down and laughing in a carefree manner. Not wanting to be beaten by a mere slip of a girl, he used his more advanced training to flip himself around so the positions were reversed. Hermione saw the fun in this, and the two started rolling about in the icy cold snow, laughing and purring in complete amusement as they forgot the world around them, all that mattered was to win the friendly wrestling match.

With a final growl, Harry pounced Hermione and pinned her firmly to the ground like she had tried to do to him. To assure she wasn't thinking of continuing the struggle, he growled and clamped his large mouth to her neck, not really applying any pressure, but letting her know she had lost.

Hermione stopped struggling under him quickly, and Harry released her, licking his chops out of instinct. His victory was cut short as he got a snowball slammed into the side of his face, compliments of a grinning Ginny.

Having spent a great deal of his energies today already, Harry settled for growling at the smirking redhead, his tail having unwrapped itself and was sweeping the snow behind him. It is never a good sign when a feline's tail is flicking back and forth, as that means they are annoyed and likely to attack, something that is not desirable when the feline in question is a large predator with magical abilities.

The chattering of Hermione's teeth made Harry realise she had been immobile in cold snow for several minutes.

He stood and offered his hand to the freezing Prefect. She was obviously much too tired and cold to play around, and accepted it without much of a fight.

'Let's have some warm chocolate!' exclaimed one of the younger Ravenclaws, the pitch of the voice was such that Harry had a difficult time deciding whether it was a boy or a girl, but found the idea very appealing.

* * *

Morning came calmly and serenely. The snow outside covered the land like a thick white blanket, and those few fowl species that could stand the cold twittered merrily in greeting of the new day.

There was but one thing that disrupted this idyllic Christmas scene; a very loud horn that blared from somewhere within Hogwarts.

This was the signal for the contestants of the Ice Sculpturing Competition to gather in the Great Hall for the speech and last minute details.

Harry, having been very tired as he threw himself onto his bed the previous night, had to dig his feline claws out of the ceiling, as in his shock at the sudden and loud noise, he had jumped and grabbed onto the most convenient thing, which happened to be the stone ceiling directly above his four poster bed. Luckily, none of his claws were damaged from digging their way into stone in a matter of tenths of a second, nor did the strain of the weight of three hundred pounds of flexible and graceful muscles damage the claws.

Just as he had gotten the last claw out, Hermione and Ginny entered the room to look for him, catching sight of something heavy dropping onto the bed. The two of them giggled in amusement at Harry's predicament until Harry growled from under the blankets that had jumped at his landing, and landed on him.

'Come on, they'll serve breakfast at the same time as the speech,' Hermione urged mirthfully. Ginny was given the honours of waking her brother, which resulted in another wet chase with loud cursing and screaming from a redhead badly in need of shaving the fuzz on his face. Hermione had to place a silencing spell on Ron to keep the young and impressionable first years from learning some very inappropriate words.

The turnout in the Great Hall was nearly complete, only those not at the school were missing. Harry was nervous, unsure about everything he knew about sculpting ice, unsure of his choice in motif, unsure in himself, and unsure about life in general.

Harry was pleased that Dobby or Winky seemed to have started recognising where he usually sat, and placed a higher concentration of meats he could eat around him. It made things less difficult for him. Hermione, Ginny and Ron, however, needed to ask their neighbouring students to pass them various foods.

'Welcome, all!' Dumbledore greeted as he stood from his seat. 'As you all know, today, after this speech as a matter of fact, the Ice Sculpturing Contest starts, and for those of you who did not bother to read your information booklet, which accompanied your envelope, I will read you the rules.

'Firstly, no magic is allowed to be used to transfigure your block of ice. It all has to be done by hand. Failure to follow this rule will lead to not only immediate disqualification, but a loss of twenty house points. The only magic allowed, is for summoning tools, rotating the block, or for reattaching ice that falls off unintentionally.

'Second, no other contestant is allowed in the chambers of other contestants. Groups are asked to remain inside with the rest until they too need to leave, so as not to encourage sloth. If a contestant willingly enters the chambers of another contestant, that contestant will be immediately disqualified and lose their hose twenty points.

'Thirdly, contestants are only allowed to enter and exit their chambers twice a day. The second time a contestant, or group, exits the chambers, it will lock the doors automatically, and not open until eight in the following morning.

'Fourth, and possibly one of the strictest ones, if any tampering with other contestants or their work is detected, and it will be, will lead to immediate disqualification and fifty points lost … Per individual.' At this, the normally cheerful headmaster leaned on his hands and stared sternly at all his students. The moment passed quickly, and the stern face turned cheerful again. 'Now that that is out of the way, away with you, you have until noon in six days! And remember, let your hearts guide you!'

Dumbledore stuck his wand into the air and fired out green sparks and a loud boom to signal the start of the contest.

Harry ripped open his envelope to look at the room number written on his key, before standing and walking sedately towards room number 106.

One would think that having spent six years at Hogwarts would have helped him find his way around, but Harry ended up passing the exact same suit of armour, and the exact same painting of a gargoyle playing checkers with a very bruised knight, seven times before he found his designated room. He cursed himself when he saw that he was a mere twenty feet from the Entrance Hall, and had spent the better part of an hour just finding the room.

Upon entering the room, Harry felt the cold of the air inside, and saw the mist before his face, clinging on to his whiskers and freezing into tiny icicles.

The room was nearly as large as the dormitory he currently resided in. along one wall was a long table full of various tools he would need to use. There were no windows into the room, and no visible source of light, yet the entire room was lit. in the middle of the floor, stood a block of ice larger than a car, perfectly smoothed surfaces, and each six surfaces were equal in size to the others. Not wanting the ice to melt, Harry closed the door behind him and stepped up to the giant block of ice.

The first thing he needed to do; was to mark out what needed to go, and what could stay.

He picked up an ice pick from the table and started carving the outline of one side of his subject onto the side he was on. It took some time to get it right, even if the lines were slightly squiggly.

Harry really wanted to correct his mistakes, but was not sure he was allowed to. Deciding to play it safe, he picked up the booklet and tried looking for loopholes in the rules. Hey look! A list of spells allowed to be used! The old coot really did go over these rules with a fine tooth comb.

Harry was relieved to find that he was allowed to magically etch the outline for his design into the block of ice as though it was made with laser and would not be chipped away until everything outside the marked line had gone. That would be useful.

With this new knowledge, Harry started hacking away ice from the corners of the block with a chisel. He would have used a saw of some sort, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and worked only with the chisel.

Harry would have been worried if it wasn't for the fact that it felt right. He was doing the right thing, even if he knew it to be dangerous.

* * *

Five hours later, Harry stepped out of his designated chamber, icicles hanging from around his maw, and his teeth chattering as he tried to beat the feeling back into his limbs. Now would be a good time for some hot chocolate.

He had only just dropped his chisel because he was too frozen to hold it firmly enough to chip away the ice from the block. Harry was slightly worried about how and why his hands were working on their own. He was certain that it was not outside influence, and he had checked the chisel for any magic before leaving the room.

As Harry entered the Great Hall, he spotted several more that had gotten his idea.

Hermione and Ginny were huddled together and warming their hands on the large mugs of steaming hot chocolate. They looked cold, but very excited about their day. Harry joined them based purely on their happy expressions, warming him as well as any beam of sunlight had. Although he really couldn't drink hot chocolate because of his feline palate, Harry forced it down, unwilling to give up the last shred of human feelings for a warm drink for this.

The ice in Harry's fur was thawing, and making Harry miserable with having to restrain his instincts to shake and lick himself clean. Hermione must have seen his dilemma, as she snaked her hand out from under her cloak and started scratching him behind his ears, successfully distracting Harry from his misery.

Though a few were startled by Harry's sudden purrs, none thought anything of it. Even Malfoy's taunts had ceased to be amusing any more, as Harry showed that he was clearly able to perform magic without the power of speech, that he was able to restrain himself to normal human norms, and word had gotten around about how heavy weights Harry was lifting each morning lately, and how well he was learning physical combat from solid illusions. Although no one but the DA knew about their training regime, and how they were done, they did get the point across to other students how well Harry could handle himself with and without a wand, so no one taunted him, nor were they afraid of him, unless he was in a less than social mood.

'How is your sculpture coming?' asked Ginny casually and sipped her mug.

No … speak … mmmm gooooooood! Harry wrote on his sign, leaning into the hand and purring loudly.

'Hermione,' Ginny warned, 'please halt the alternate torture so we can find out how he did.'

Not … telling … anyway … just … carry … on! Harry's sign declared.

Harry was so engrossed in the delightful sensation that he lost all control of his tail, which snaked around Hermione's scratching wrist.

'Harry, your tail is cold,' she commented idly and sipped from her mug with her free hand.

Warming … he purred and leaned further into the scratching hand.

'Harry …!' Hermione's voice took on a slight note of concern.

Hmm?

'HARRY!'

Thud.

Harry opened his eyes as the scratching stopped, only to see a glaring Hermione sitting in an undignified heap on the cold stone floor.

'Be more careful about how much you lean into those scratching you,' she warned mildly as she stood up and brushed herself off.

Sorry … Harry apologised and looked down at his plate, feeling bad that he had pushed his best friend out of her seat because she had such a gentle and ingenious hand that he lost control.

'There's nothing to be sorry about,' she cut in. 'You were distracted and didn't know what you were doing.'

Harry nodded dumbly, clearly not agreeing, but not trying to make a fuss about things. He started eating as soon as warm meat appeared in front of him, and did not notice Ron staggering in, clapping his arms to bring back circulation, and wearing a few bandages on his fingers.

* * *

Six days passed all too quickly for Harry's tastes.

On the first day, Harry had set his patterns on the block of ice and started to chip off a good portion of the frozen water, making a slanted lump. The second day, Harry had chipped away some more, not yet attaining a completely bas form of his sculpture. On the third day, Harry had gotten the basic shape of his sculpture, and now had to start working more gently and with greater care. On the fourth day, one could see the hooded figure of a human with folded wings holding something in its left arm, and supporting the right hand on something ramrod straight a couple of feet away from its body. On the fifth, Harry carved a face under the cowl of the hood, and made the fingers of each feminine hand clear as they held onto a wicked looking sword and a book. On the sixth and final day, Harry abandoned tools, and started smoothing out the skin of the woman he had sculpted, and making the cloth and feathers rough with his claws. Harry had just finished making a scratch in the ice that served as the curly locks of hair when a loud gong sounded, signalling the end of the competition.

Not wanting to break any of the rules, Harry halted his work, and started spelling around the sculpture, so as not to break the rule of tampering with the work after the bell. The spells were only to ensure that if it fell, it would not break, and that he could transport it without actually touching it.

Harry had not more than gotten his sculpture outside the door of his assigned chamber before he heard a startled gasp in front of it.

Thinking he had run someone over, Harry stormed around the sculpture, nearly losing control of it.

On the other side stood Charlotte Creevey, staring in awe at the hooded face.

'It looks exactly like her,' she whispered, leaning closer to confirm it.

What? asked Harry, not understanding what she meant.

'Your sculpture, it looks exactly like Ms Granger the Prefect,' she stated. 'You even managed to make her hair look real, and her skin looks like it should be soft. Oooh pretty wings. _Hogwarts; a History_, that's her favourite book, isn't it? And you even included it with her!'

Harry was shocked to say the least. He nearly shoved the little girl aside to have a look himself, only to discover that it was true. The book his angel was holding had the title; _Hogwarts; a History_ etched into the cover. Her half lidded eyes looked like she was staring at something on the sword, and Harry managed to see, for the first time, that he had etched something onto the blade. "_My Angel_" it said. Harry suddenly felt a constriction around his heart, as though he was panicking, the sculpture looked so real, it only lacked to take on colour and move for the illusion to be reality. Harry found himself lost in the loving face he had carved himself but been too blind to actually see.

'Mr Potter, you'd better get going, or you'll be late!' Charlotte urged, tugging at his robes.

Harry was shaken from his trance, and slung his cloak over the sculpture to keep anyone else from seeing it completely before he was in the great courtyard where the judging would take place.

It was very cold in the courtyard, but Harry didn't care at the moment, as he was more concerned about the reception this sculpture would get. Not from Dumbledore, not from McGonagall, not from Ginny or Malfoy, not from Ron or the rest of the school. But the one he feared the response from was Hermione herself. In that brief moment he had been lost in his sculpture's gaze, he realised that he could not imagine himself looking into the face of another woman for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if she did not return the feeling that was bubbling under the surface, he'd gladly live the remainder of his days as a celibate bachelor if she agreed to remain his friend. Had he been more accustomed to feelings and emotions, he could have identified the one he felt for his bushy haired friend. But he knew that this would forever change their friendship, which way depended on Hermione and her reaction.

Harry carefully lowered his sculpture to the ground at the end of a long line of sculptures, making sure that the distance between his own and the next was at least three metres, as a safety precaution. He then gently removed the cloak, checking all over to see if anything was loosened by the gesture.

Seeing that it was still in one piece, Harry placed himself directly in the line of view of many of the other contestants, crossing his arms to look more menacing and draw the attention away from his work. Heck, it worked for Crabbe and Goyle, who appeared to have made a very large deflated Quaffle.

The teachers started their evaluations not five minutes later, and Harry became increasingly nervous, as Hermione's work was now being examined, and that would mean that once they had seen her "_Proud Free House-Elf sculpture_", she would be roaming the rest to have a look, which meant that he was about to be judged in a much more serious manner than he had suspected when he had unsuspectingly entered the contest.

Sooner than he had expected, he found Hermione slinking her way past him to inspect his work. Harry would have tried to stop her if it hadn't been for the teachers suddenly jumping to his work, obviously doing things in a random order. The many teachers of Hogwarts obscured Harry's view of Hermione and her reaction to having him carve a replica of her into ice, and the revealing title of his work.

Snape made it quite clear that he suspected some form of cheating in Harry's work, and did several intricate and difficult spells over the sculpture to try and prove it. The best he could do was to produce a slight pink glow from it that only lasted as second. He tried to pin that one on Harry as cheating, but Dumbledore intervened the impending disqualification by stating in a fairly amused tone; 'This is a labour of love, Severus … love works in mysterious ways, sometimes influencing more control over the body than the mind. No cheating has taken place for this marvellous piece of work.'

Harry was blushing heavily under his thick black fur, as he received the compliments of all his professors, except Snape, but was more anxious about seeing Hermione's reaction. However, when the teachers got out of the way, Hermione was no place to be seen.

This made Harry even more anxious, and he thought that she might have been deeply offended and run off.

He barely noticed that Ron had attempted to make a statue of Hermione as well, with less than successful results compared to Harry. The redheaded boy must have thought he could flatter his way into Hermione's good graces.

'May I have your attention!'

The sonorous enhanced voice of professor Dumbledore reverberated across the school grounds.

'As hard as the choice was,' he continued, 'we have come to a decision. It was nearly unanimous, but because of some dispute about the honesty of this contestant, this is not so. You may all give yourselves a round of applause, as we have so far not caught anyone cheating.'

Some scattered clapping was heard, but the tension was too much for all to participate.

'Yes, well done,' Dumbledore continued. 'Now, you may all transfigure your own sculpture into any material you choose, and bring it with you at the end of the year, but I am afraid that three of you will have to hold that transportation off until you have completed your educations here. In third place; Collin & Dennis Creevey for their statue; _The Beast Who Was Man_.'

Harry looked to see a crooked statue of himself being floated towards the centre. It was definitely Harry in his partially transformed state, he recognised several features from having looked in a mirror. The statue was partially hunched forward, as though it was preparing to attack something, and breathing heavily already. The brothers Creevey were both blushing as professor McGonagall transfigured their work into granite.

'Second; we have Ms Cho Chan for her excellent work; _My Hero_.'

Harry felt his blush increase as another, and better, statue of him floated towards the centre of the courtyard. This one was in a slightly more heroic pose, and was of his normal body. She had absolutely exaggerated somewhat on the muscle definition, and since when did he ever bite down on a rose as he smirked confidently into space? Cho followed it and gave Harry a very seductive wink as professor McGonagall transfigured her ice statue into glass. Harry realised that throughout all this year, Cho had been trying to get into his good graces like Ron was attempting to do with Hermione. And Harry had been too occupied with either his training, reading, or petting to notice anything. This made Harry realise just how smitten and blind to it he had been. An admittedly beautiful woman was nearly throwing herself at his feet, but all he could notice was for instance how Hermione seemed to be fertile again, or that she used a shampoo that smelt of apple and cinnamon.

'And in first place; Harry Potter for his sculpture; _My Angel_!'

There was a round of scattered applause, although a great part of the Slytherin contestants cried out that this was nepotism, that it was not possible for Harry to make something like that, and demanded that they do another evaluation with stronger spells to check it, and maybe blast it just in case. He had already been the subject of the ones that placed third and second, he was just not able to make something like that.

Harry listened to all the allegations and critiques as he followed his sculpture towards the centre where the teachers were waiting, there was still no sign of Hermione anywhere, and Harry feared the worst.

'What material would you like to make your sculpture, Mr Potter?' asked professor McGonagall.

Harry studied it for a moment before flicking his wand at it himself. From the exact centre of it, a light brown speck appeared, and slowly grew in size, spreading through the ice. The transparency of the ice soon gave way to the light brown colour of marble, even if the texture would never match because of the amount of work that had gone into making this thing realistic. The sword was in metal, the only thing not marble, and looked very sharp and real, a green jewel embedded in the hilt where the blade met it.

'A very fine example of transfiguration, Mr Potter, even if the reaction was slightly slow,' commented professor McGonagall as she inspected the finished transformation. 'But that is to be expected in your condition.' She poked the edge of the sword with her finger and drew it away with a cut. 'Very lifelike, but it is not recommended to mix metal with stone, they do not really mix, I suggest you make the entire thing either stone or metal, Mr Potter.'

Harry reluctantly nodded and flicked his wand once more, putting more of an effort into the spell. The stone quickly gave way to metal, and the entire sculpture gleamed in the bright light of the combined snow and unclouded sun. If one looked closely, one could see a slight colouration on the skin of the sculpture, and a golden gleam from the eyes under the hood.

'What material did you make it into?' asked professor Flitwick eagerly as he came over to examine the work himself. 'I do not think I have ever seen this before.'

An even blend of Mithril, platinum, gold, silver, bronze, diamond and titanium, but with a heavier concentration of gold and bronze for the skin, nearly pure gold for the eyes and nearly pure bronze for the hair, Harry wrote without even blinking, as his eyes were searching the crowds for Hermione.

'Well, if you do not wish to reveal it, that is fine, but don't make up things you know to be impossible to transfigure and conjure,' sighed professor McGonagall.

'Very well done, Harry,' congratulated Dumbledore grandly as he handed Harry the envelope he had been holding. 'Here is your prize, a gift certificate to Honeyduke's for one hundred galleons.'

Harry accepted the envelope, thinking that if things went as bad as he feared, he could get Dobby to pop down and get enough Butterbeer for him to either drown his sorrows. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to see him heartbroken.

'Now that this competition has finished, it is time for you all to head for the Great Hall, where a marvellous meal will be waiting.'

Harry followed the crowd as they brought the statues and sculptured inside, not really wanting to join the festivities when he was about to have his heart stomped on.

* * *

He had just stepped inside when his arm was grabbed and roughly pulled into a disused classroom. Harry reacted as his battle instincts had demanded and reversed the grab, bringing his assailant into a head-lock. It took him a second to realise that this was Hermione, and let go quickly, examining her for lasting damage.

'I'm fine, Harry, just startled,' she assured him as she rubbed her neck. 'I shouldn't have surprised you like that.'

Harry looked down at his feet, not really knowing what to say. Why did things have to become so complicated?

'Thank you,' she whispered shyly, shaking Harry from his introspect. What did she mean by thank you? 'You didn't have to make my face any prettier than it is, but I appreciate the gesture,' she continued.

I only crafted my sculpture as I see you, Harry corrected, knowing it to be true even if he hadn't realised it at the time he was working. There were no exaggerations in anything but your subservient posture in my sculpture, you would never bow to me, and never need to … I -

'There you are!'

Harry looked up and saw Ron enter the room, beaming slightly as his statue of a slightly disfigured Hermione floated behind him in granite.

'I've been looking all over for you, Hermione,' he continued, looking as though he didn't realise Harry was there.

Hermione wiped away tears that Harry hadn't noticed were there. Had he hurt her feelings by his actions? Harry thought. He silently cursed himself for his gift at making girls cry for the strangest reasons. Ron only saw Hermione crying, then he noticed Harry's angry expression and came to the obviously wrong conclusion.

'You hurt Hermione!' he yelled and lunged at Harry, his wand forgotten.

Harry was surprised by this turn of events, and Ron got in one lucky punch to the side of his face before he started defending himself. Ron ended up in a heap along the wall as Harry threw him over his shoulder. A perfectly executed judo toss.

Ron was not daunted by this, and lunged again, though he was bruised and sore from hitting a stone wall and then the floor. Hermione watched in stunned silence as Ron lunged at Harry again and again. And again and again, Harry flipped the redhead with minimal effort, even using his tail at one time. When Ron was so tired and bruised that he barely managed to get up, she came to her senses and ran between the two of them.

'STOP THIS!' she demanded.

Ron staggered to a stop in his slow march towards Harry. Harry was hardly even breathing hard, and only rubbed the side of his maw to get the sting out of the bruise that might start forming.

'WHAT POSSIBLE REASON CAN YOU HAVE TO ATTACK YOUR FRIEND, RONALD WEASLEY?'

'HE WAS HURTING YOU!' Harry cringed and covered his ears from the sharp sounds of another Ron and Hermione quarrel.

'Harry wouldn't hurt me,' Hermione coolly retorted.

'THEN WHY WERE YOU CRYING?'

'Because he made me happy,' stated Hermione in a tone that left no room for argument. 'He made a beautiful sculpture of me.'

'Oy, Potter, who gave you permission to flirt with my girl?' Ron demanded, not realising his slip.

'"YOUR GIRL"? SINCE WHEN HAVE I EVER BEEN YOUR GIRL?' Hermione screeched angrily.

'It's a law of human nature,' Ron lectured. 'In a triangle friendship similar to ours, it is unavoidable that feelings will run so high that the girl will end up with one of her male friends, and since you aren't likely to go out with … _that_,' here he paused and nodded his head in Harry's direction, 'there is only one logical choice.'

Harry who so far had been stunned, not only by the loud noises but also the topic of conversation, growled. How dare Ron refer to him as if he was something less than human? How dare Ron force this decision on Hermione when she was obviously distressed? How dare – wait, did she say she was happy with my sculpture? She was crying out of happiness? I swear, if I ever live to be a thousand, I'll never be able to figure out the workings of the female mind!

'You are absolutely right, Ron,' Hermione stated after a moment, as though she had just seen the light. 'There is only one logical choice.'

Harry closed his eyes after seeing Ron's confident smirk, he couldn't stand to see Hermione kiss someone else, let alone someone who had just attacked and insulted him. He heard Hermione's steps as she walked, and was infinitely surprised when he felt a pair of hands on his head just a fraction of a second before a pair of lips pressed against his maw, just below his nose. He was so shocked that he opened his eyes to see Hermione's own directly in front of his, hope and fear shining clearly. Tentatively, Harry reached around her with his arms, pulling her into a sort of hug, his tail automatically snaking its way around her waist when she got close enough and added to the firm embrace. There was no resistance or disgust in her eyes as this happened, only acceptance and joy before the eyes closed and she leaned into him with all her weight.

Although it was awkward kissing someone with a feline face, they remained attached at the lips for a long time, neither sensing time as they enjoyed the other's embrace and warmth.

When they ended the relatively innocent kiss, Ron was gone, as was his sculpture, and Harry's had been knocked over without a scratch on it. Harry was purring uncontrollably as he rested his chin on Hermione's head. This was better than a good scratching and a warm beam of sunlight combined.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione muttered.

Harry pulled back, why was she feeling sorry? Didn't she like it? He was sure he would have been a better kisser if he had possessed real lips at the time.

'I shouldn't have forced you into this,' she stated sullenly, 'you are under no obligations to continue this …'

Harry wouldn't hear of it and returned to hugging her. Maybe he could press some sense into her … didn't she realise he wanted to be with her?

'You don't have to sacrifice yourself for me, Harry, you can leave now,' she continued.

Harry growled warningly at her and held on. He was not going to let her get away, not after she had chosen, she was too selfless to care about her own wants. She wanted him to be with her, he could smell it on her, he could hear her heart beating in dread of him leaving, and he could feel her need for him to stay. If he let go of her, it would be a blow to her feelings from which she would not recover, and she would return to being that friendless bookworm that had entered Hogwarts and tried to make friends by impressing them with her vast knowledge. He was not about to let that happen, he would hold her until the ends of time if it meant she would be happy, and he would kill himself if that was what it took. It didn't matter, he would do anything to keep her happy.

Minutes passed in silence before Hermione burst into tears, sobbing into Harry's chest, thanking him for staying.

Harry held on to her, rocking slightly while purring mildly in happiness. He would take away her pains for as long as she wanted him to. He would comfort her for as long as she needed it. He would forever take care of her, if it meant his life. This he vowed.

Neither of them noticed the short pink glow that surrounded them, and merely carried on. A slight draft roused them from their moment, making them realise how chilly it was, and that they were hungry.

They had just stepped out of the room, one arm each around the other's waist – except for Harry who also had his tail wrapped around Hermione – when they were both stopped and surrounded by a golden ring on the ground.

Harry growled and looked up, to see one of the newest Weasley Wizarding Wheezes; the _Matchmaker Mistletoe_. Dumbledore had placed a few of them around the castle. They only activated when a couple of different genders were close enough and directly underneath the article, not to release the couple until they had kissed for a good five seconds. And now it had caught him with his best friend. Although he was unsure about what stage their relationship was at the moment, he assumed they were still friends, but he needed to make sure.

This makes us a couple, right? he asked, drawing a tentative smile on the other side of the sign.

'Yes, Harry, it does,' Hermione replied in a satisfied giggle before grabbing his ears and kissing him.

Harry's free arm wrapped around her waist again, and hugged her to him. Purring up a storm.

'Thank you, Harry,' Hermione sighed and gave him a quick peck on his nose before returning to the task of levitating her statue to follow them, Harry wordlessly did the same thing with his own, still purring from the wonderful feeling this moment was bringing him. He was certain that he could take on every single dementor in the world with the Patronus he could produce with this happy feeling.

When the two of them entered the Great Hall for dinner, word had already gotten out, although it was from Ron's perspective, about Harry and Hermione's newly formed relationship.

The more romantic ones, mainly the girls, sighed wistfully and called it a "_Beauty and the Beast_" love story. The jealous ones grumbled about the injustice of it all. The rest were dubious about how this could be possible, both physically and mentally. Humans and animals shouldn't mix, and at the moment, Harry was a great deal like an animal in appearance.

Neither of the two could care less as they sat in their regular seats, which were pushed closer together by an unseen force, not letting go of the other. Their sculptures floated into the Entrance Hall where they would be collected later, in Harry's case, after his NEWTs were done. During their meal, Harry could feel the amused and relieved look of his headmaster, and could swear he felt those eyes twinkle every now and again without looking up.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was in heaven. There was no other way to describe it. He had finished his training for the day, and was currently reclining on a couch reading, but this wasn't the good part. He shared the couch with Hermione, who faced the same way, but was acting as a pillow for Harry, letting him lean back against her stomach as she read the same book he was, while wrapping her arms and legs around him.

It was incredible how fast they got over the awkward phase that exists at the beginning of each relationship. Perhaps it stemmed from over six years of friendship. Perhaps it stemmed from their constant exposure to each other for six months before the relationship started. Or perhaps it was as Harry hoped … that they were perfect for each other.

They had only been an item for less than a day, and they were already comfortable enough with each other to pass as long time lovers. Harry was purring because of the contact, making it hard for both of them to concentrate enough to read the words of the book.

Hermione's statue was standing proudly on the table, shrunken down to become a glass figurine that doubled as a bookend that occasionally would move and wipe dust off the closest book. Hermione had worked for over an hour to make the calculations for that bit of animating charm, and Harry was proud of her. Of course, she had not practiced on her statue first, that would have been reckless, no, she somehow managed to replicate the statue as it was made of glass, and now had four of them, all with the same enchantments on them. They would be very useful in a small library or reference collection in an office.

Ron had avoided them like they carried the plague since they first kissed in front of him, and Ginny had sighed and reasoned that he would grow out of it and realise he was not in the right to make a remark like he had. Although she privately stated that she was happy the two of them had gotten their act together and become an item.

'Harry,' Hermione interrupted, 'I think it's time for bed.'

OK, Harry agreed and marked his page. Your bed or min?

'Prat!' Hermione laughed and swatted his shoulder.

It had to be said at one point, Harry pointed out. Carefully, he sat up, pulling Hermione partly with him, and allowing her to get up as Harry stood. He offered a hand as she struggled to get out of the overly cushy couch, but she swatted it away.

'It was a nice thought,' she agreed as she managed to rise, 'but I can handle some things on my own, even if I have a boyfriend to help me.'

They walked together to the doors leading to the two staircases, and halted.

'Goodnight,' she breathed and stood on her toes to reach his mouth and give it a peck.

Harry was left to stare after her in a goofy daze as she darted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

* * *

When Harry woke the following morning, he felt like his heart was made the nest of a family of phoenixes, and mother, father, and hatchlings were all trilling their merriest and loveliest melody.

It took him a second to remember why he felt this way, before he caught sight of Ron's glare from his bed. Hermione had agreed to be Harry's girlfriend. She had done so at the spur of the moment to get Ron off her back, but she had been sincere, and Harry could tell. She had offered him the easy way out, as she was insecure about herself, but he had accepted her as she was the day he met her, it just took him too long to realise it.

Suddenly, he couldn't get out of bed and into some clothes fast enough. He accidentally tore his shirts as he pulled them on, and his pants had a nice gash down them from his feet. He had to see her again. And he couldn't be too quick about it.

Harry dashed down the stairs and leapt the final flight, landing soundlessly at the bottom before entering the common room to find Hermione waiting anxiously, doing warm-up stretches, wearing her normal work-out clothing, shorts and top with running shoes and knee socks. It had never occurred to Harry before now just how enticing that view was. Correction, it had occurred, but he was too busy drowning out the response to appreciate the view.

Hermione noticed that Harry's appraisal of her looks took longer than it usually did, and was flattered. She finished her stretching and came over to deliver him a peck.

'Good morning,' she purred as Harry released her from the hug he pulled her into.

Harry purred and licked one of her cheeks a couple of times before she pushed him off.

'No time for that, we have training to do,' she teased.

Wherever you go, I will follow, Harry wrote while puffing his chest, then added, because the view is impeccable!

'Harry!' Hermione laughed, blushing at the compliment. 'You go first,' she commanded.

Harry reluctantly did so, but assured that she was not too far behind, as his tail had darted out and caught hold of her. The two jogged their way to the Room of Requirements, taking a longer route than they needed to so they had a raised heart beat and were awake and alert for their morning session.

Only the odd student from the DA had appeared during the holidays, so Harry and Hermione had the room to themselves as they ran around the track they had set as standard.

They had completed five circuits before Hermione announced that it was enough, and went in on the large field in the middle of the track to stretch and do other physical activities. Harry would have continued a few more circuits before calling it quits, but his newfound relationship with Hermione compelled him to remain as close to her as she allowed, for as long as possible.

Hermione helped Harry with his advanced conditioning, acting as support for his feet when he was doing sit ups, and sitting on his back as a weight when he did push ups. She didn't weigh much more than sixty kilograms, but Harry insisted that it would help him even with just a little more weight than his own to push. As she was lowered and raised, Hermione giggled and compared this to sitting on a seesaw as a child, only she didn't have to do anything to go up or down like one had to on a seesaw.

As Harry started lifting weights, Hermione brought out a book on warding, and started reading aloud so that he also could learn from it.

'Just imagine,' Hermione commented as Harry neared the end of his lifting, 'a year ago, I would have had to twist your arm just to get you to do your assignments on time, now you are studying material that is beyond Hogwarts by years on your own.'

Not that you are complaining … Harry commented and added to the large set of weights.

'Absolutely not!' Hermione stated indignantly. 'I love your change, but I love you more, and if you were never to pick up another book, I wouldn't try to change your mind.'

As I would not abandon you yesterday, Harry agreed. I would never let you remain miserable if I could help it.

Hermione smiled a sad but happy smile, and decided to do some stretches to get rid of some kinks.

Harry paused in mid lift to appreciate the view as her top lifted slightly. A fading red mark exposed itself to him, making him drop the weights instantly and rush over to her. Hermione protested wildly as she fell over and Harry lifted her top to see the mark again.

Who did this? he demanded of her.

'Dolohov,' she admitted and pulled her top up further to reveal that the red mark stretched further up, from the bottom of her right ribs to her left clavicle, nearly as thick as a finger. Harry felt very guilty and carefully traced the line that marred the woman he loved. He had indirectly caused it by leading her and the others to the Ministry of Magic that night. 'Don't you dare!'

Harry looked up into fiery eyes, thinking for a moment she was referring to his padded fingers.

'Don't you dare blame yourself for this, you couldn't have known, and you did everything you thought of to try and find out if Sirius was there or not,' she said passionately, 'Dolohov did this, and he will get his just dessert in due time. And if you ever blame yourself for that again, I'll hex you into the next week! This will be gone within a year from now.'

It is going to leave a permanent mark, Harry stated and traced the mark with a gentle hand.

'Yes it will,' Hermione agreed, a tear pooling in the corner of her eye, 'and if I could, I would show it to the world as a badge of honour, a mark that shows both how far I was willing to go for my friends, and how dangerous inattention can be. I will not be taken off my guard again if I can help it.'

Harry pulled his girlfriend close and licked her face clean of the rogue tear that traced down her cheek.

'Ew, cat spit!' Hermione giggled and started play wrestling with him like they had in the snowball fight on Christmas Morning.

The two of them rolled about for a while before calming down and relaxing on their backs for a moment to catch their breaths. After a moment, two silhouettes of the two appeared as solid shadows in front of them. This was the illusion system the Room of Requirements used for physical combat instructions.

Harry and Hermione got to their feet and assumed the ready stance. Their training was above the other students' levels for the sole reason that they dedicated most of their free time to this.

The "shadows" moved first, attacking the form corresponding with their own. Harry and Hermione fought furiously against the shadows. Had there been such a thing as synchronised combat, they would have won a medal, not necessarily gold, but a medal. As one, both raised an arm to block the overhead chop, and raised their knee to block the kick that the chop had been meant to distract from. The extended arm was grabbed and reversed before the shadows were flipped over their shoulders, and landed them on the ground, their arm stretching out behind them in an arm lock that was secured by the application of a foot on the shoulder. Just a twist and that shoulder would be out of its socket.

The two released their shadows, and stepped back.

The shadows suddenly held a silver knife each.

Things escalated like this for a while. After the knife, the shadows had another knife. Then a dagger, then a dagger and a knife, followed by dagger and dagger. So far both Harry and Hermione were unmarred, and had not stepped in to assist the other. The daggers vanished and were replaced by short swords. At this time they met problems, as the shadows started cooperating instead of working alone. Instead of cutting like read swords would, these weapons left glowing lines where they hit. By the time both shadows had been disarmed and disabled, Harry and Hermione had been forced to work together, and were both covered in lines in places that would not have been of any mortal danger.

The lines were counted on a score sheet that appeared in their hands, and according to this, they had come very far, attaining such a high level of their "real-scenario" training. If their learning curve continued as it had, the two would manage to dodge bullets shot at close range by the end of the school year.

Hermione had to begin with questioned why they did this every morning, but realised it after only a few weeks. Not all dangers were magical, and not everything could be handled with magic. If you were mugged on an open street, you couldn't use magic, as there were far too many Muggles present, and there was no way of getting every single one with an _Obliviate_ curse, and then the wizarding world would be exposed to the Muggles, and a possible witch hunt might start again, or the Muggles would have wizards and witches solve all their problems, becoming too lazy to do things when magic could take care of it. The pure blooded wizards and witches didn't see much reason for this, but didn't question Harry's judgement, as the last person to do so, one of the extremely few Slytherins, had been cursed and evicted from the DA when questioning Harry's physical training regime even after having been told three times per day for a week.

The shadows got back up, and bowed to Harry and Hermione before stepping back and assuming a ready stance. This was the part of the training where they learned new moves. The style of this Martial Arts branch was a mix of every style, ranging from drunken boxing, brawling, and boxing to kung fu, karate and jeet kun do. Harry knew that there was no way for them to learn all styles, let alone remember which branch to use in combat, so he had the Room of Requirements mix them all up, sorting out any flaws that existed in each style, and cleaned it up after mixing, so that everything was fluid. Hermione had been awed at the complexities that the Room of Requirements was capable of performing when Harry first had succeeded in making it do this.

This style had yet to be named, and no unique ranking system had been made to tell their skills apart, so they simply called it fighting, and applied a notch on their belts for every time the Room of Requirements told them they had advanced a level. The more flamboyant of them chose to transfigure belts and make a metal pin in it for each level. There were approximately twelve levels, according to the room, but this had yet to be verified. Dean Thomas was working on a uniform design for their group, their ranking system in the fighting, and for announcement sheets, as he was the more artistic one of them.

By the time the next move had been incorporated into Harry and Hermione's mental library, it was starting to near breakfast time, and the shadows were dismissed.

'Last one to the Prefect's bathroom is a rotten egg!' Hermione giggled and took off, leaving Harry in the dust.

Unfair! he wrote, but it was useless as there were no one to read it.

He decided to just go with it, and followed her on much lighter and swifter feet.

Hermione had already gotten a ten second head start, and was a long way ahead of Harry by the time he got her within sights again. He caught up with her as he got to the painting he was not supposed to know about unless he was a Prefect. Harry remembered how he had snuck in here under his invisibility cloak during his fourth year. How silly he felt, going out in the middle of the night to take a bath with his gold egg.

'I win!' Hermione cheered.

You cheated, Harry wrote, huffing in protest. Besides, I'm already considered a rotten egg.

'You? A rotten egg?' asked Hermione in mock surprise.

Oh yeah, Harry replied, trying to make his face look smug. I'm said to be the next Dark Lord … could be fun, except for that whole killing people thing … I mean, to have the people quiver in fear at the very thought of your name, to spread deadly fear by appearing, and befuddling their minds by doing a kind gesture to one of the terrified persons … of course, the downside would be that everyone would be trying to kill me … OK, let's abandon that idea …

'Of course,' agreed Hermione. 'Because if you had developed that idea, you'd have ended up as Lord Azkaban, or something like that. Let's instead get cleaned up, I'll go in first and transfigure something to wear in the giant bathtub they have in there, and you do the same outside, I'll knock on the door when I'm ready.'

Harry reluctantly let the door separate them, and checked the hallway for anyone before removing most of his clothes, and transfiguring his boxers into Bermuda shorts. Because of Harry's fur, he didn't feel much of he chill that ran through the castle this time of year, but was still glad when he heard the knock.

Be sure to always check if Moaning Myrtle is in, Harry cautioned. She has this perverted habit of watching through the taps.

* * *

Days passed, and the student body and the faculty seemed to grow accustomed to seeing Harry and Hermione sitting closer together, and give each other the odd quick peck. This all changed when the rest of the school came back from their Christmas holidays. The day following the return, the Daily Prophet featured a large front page photograph of the two as they were studying in what had become their normal position, one lounging against the other and the back delivering the odd kiss on the other, and the headlines proclaimed how correct their prediction had been two years ago.

Over the days following this article, both Harry and Hermione were peppered with owls of every kind. There were actually several witches out there, whom he had never seen or met, who had been under the delusion that he loved _them_ and that he was cheating on them with Hermione. Some of those witches claimed that Hermione was a gold digger, and only loved his fame, whilst they loved him for him.

Classes started again, and Harry was very happy to learn that they would be starting Apparation in Charms. This would take place over a few weeks. First theory, then practice in Hogsmeade with several Aurors and ministry employees to supervise the training, and to judge whether the students were good enough to get the license for Apparation. The reason Harry was happy about this, was that he would be able to visit Hermione or vice versa all summer without breaking the blood protection. He was doubly happy because as of this exam, he was allowed to perform magic out of school, as this was the last summer vacation he had from Hogwarts, and all seventh year students were trusted to use magic in moderation and responsibly.

Both Harry and Hermione had by now memorised a good chunk out of the Hogwarts Library … they were nowhere near finished with it, but a good chunk, considering they had not used more than half a year.

Ron was still acting frigid against the two, not spending a moment longer in their presence than he needed.

'Pay attention, Mr Weasley! This is very important and could be all that stands between yourself and a splinching!' the normally cheerful professor Flitwick reprimanded. Ron returned his attention to the diminutive wizard, abandoning his glaring at Harry's back. 'As I was saying,' Flitwick continued, 'the gist of Apparation is simply to imagine yourself somewhere you've been before, and will yourself there. However, it is not as easy as it seems. If you miscalculate the energy you put into it, you could end up with too little, thereby splinching yourself, or too much, causing parts of you to blow up.

'There is a limit for how much luggage one can bring when Apparating, which is why wizards and witches prefer to use the Knight Bus for those trips when they have too much to bring with them. There is a possibility of bringing a passenger, but only if that passenger is fully able to Apparate themselves, and does it exactly the same time as the one that knows the location. This is why it is not recommended for pregnant witches, or witches and wizards with children, to Apparate, as they end up leaving them behind.

'Wards are a different problem altogether, if someone tries to Disapparate from within a warded area, nothing will happen at all, they will simply receive a magical backlash from the power they put into it, and it will feel the equivalent of being hit with one of the milder pain curses. If someone tries to Apparate into a warded area, the same will happen, but if the ward is a particularly nasty one, it could add other hexes, jinxes or curses to the backlash.

'Contrary to belief, a wand is not needed to manage the Apparation or Disapparation, but it makes it easier to focus the magic.'

Harry and Hermione made very detailed notes, filling in anything else they had read in books, or simplifying things with different examples.

'Now,' professor Flitwick went on, 'that is all we have time for today, next time, we shall have a look at the arithmetic calculations needed for Apparation and Disapparation, and work out a schedule of who goes when to Hogsmeade for the practical part of this subject. Those that manage it easily enough will have to fill out the paperwork with the Ministry employees that will be there, and they will hand you your license. Those that are unable to do it, can, if they wish, report to the Ministry of Magic to try again over the summer.'

Ron was one of the first to depart the Charms classroom, fuming and sulking at the same time.

'Honestly,' Hermione huffed, 'how can he stand to be so immature?'

I'll answer if you can tell me how, why and when I became betrothed to Ms Inga Pinwater, Ms Gertrude Swill and Ms Delia Thunder … Harry offered.

'I think not,' Hermione cringed.

* * *

The winter passed much too rapidly. This Valentines Day there was no Hogsmeade visit, but Harry managed to have a private and romantic dinner with Hermione in the Room of Requirements. While they were preparing for the final battle in all classes and free time, Voldemort was slowly getting more active, sending small squadrons of Death Eaters on raids. Hermione, who charted these raids, pointed out that if all the dots on the map were connected, they would form a gaping skull with a snake slithering out. So far no magical areas like Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley had been attacked, although rumours had gone out about Voldemort sending out for alliances from dark creatures and goblins. Nothing of the sort had been verified, but Harry suspected it to be true, as Voldemort's following had taken a severe blow at his first fall, and then again last year at the Ministry of Magic. And recruitment would be very low considering that unlike last rising, Voldemort now had both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore against him, and Harry had proven time and again to thrive in adversity which would explain why not many would side against him.

After much anticipation, spring arrived, brushing away the snow and blanketing the landscape in green. A winter depression that none of the students were aware of having been infected with lifted, and everyone were merrier.

The Apparation lessons were now starting to be practical lessons in Hogsmeade, and those students were all followed by at least three adults per head for security. Harry wasn't worried, he had discovered something during his potions lessons; he could sense those bearing the Dark Mark. Only three students bore them in all the school, but they had obviously only just been initiated and had yet to see real action, so there was time to have them change their ways. Malfoy would not change, so Harry gave up on him immediately.

The most exciting thing that happened as spring arrived, was that Harry came over an interesting reference to Wizarding debts.

_A Wizarding Debt is when one wizard or witch is indebted to another. This can come about from a promise, or from things such as saving a wizard's or witch's life while both parties are well aware of it. The debt can be collected in anything the recipient of the debt desires, as long as it does not directly cost the life saved. Once the debt has been demanded, the wizard or witch that owes the debt can not do anything but what is demanded, they will be compelled to do it at nearly any cost._

This was the reason why Harry was seen writing a quick message and sending it off with a school owl. The predatory grin Harry sported as he watched the owl shrink in the horizon made many of those that saw it shrink back in fear of being his next meal.

Professor McGonagall gave up on teaching Harry anything more about being an Animagus, as she had taught him everything she knew, and even learned a few things, but there was no progress in Harry's transformation. Not a single hair would change on him. Instead, she filled out his paperwork for him and sent it in to the Ministry so Harry could be registered. Although he had not fully transformed, he was clearly a panther, so there was no need to lie on the form.

During breakfast the following morning, Hermione got a letter from her parents. She read it over a couple of times before wordlessly handing it over to him.

_Dear Hermione_

_We both apologise for the time it took for us to form a response to your letter. It came as quite a shock to hear that you had gotten a boyfriend, although when we read whom it was it made sense. Hardly a letter or summer has gone by without his name being mentioned in every sentence._

_Please keep in mind; that we will want to meet Harry when we come to pick you up._

_We would appreciate more letters before summer, and please keep your hormones intact, and don't do something that you'll regret later in life._

_Love;_

_Mum & Dad_

Harry cringed.

This was what could make or break any relationship. The first personal meeting with the parents. He had of course seen them once before, but they had been on the other end of Flourish and Blotts at the time, locked in conversation with Mr Weasley. He hoped he wouldn't make a bad impression.

Harry paused in his reflections and pondered why he was more nervous about meeting the parents of the woman he loved more than life itself than he was about meeting his possible doom at the hands of Voldemort.

'Are you OK, Harry?' asked Hermione cautiously.

Harry nodded slowly before handing the letter back to her.

Come on, we have Apparation lessons, prompted Harry and stood, tail firmly gripping Hermione's wrist.

Hermione had just enough time to stuff the letter away and grab her bag before the tail started tugging at her arm.

There was of course a reason why the Apparation lessons were so popular among the sixth years, and this was because after the lessons were done, the students were allowed an hour alone in Hogsmeade.

In the Entrance Hall, several other sixth years were waiting, and lining the walls were the adults, grim determination on their faces.

Harry snorted at the faces that looked ready to go to their deaths; he knew that Voldemort was not going to attack him yet. The snake-faced old bastard hadn't fully regained his strength from the attempted possession, and he was the sort of proud man that was prepared to allow his enemy to suffer in fear for two years during which he expected Harry to scurry about in terror and be the obedient little boy that only learned what the school taught.

Hermione had to pretend to be patting Harry's back and mouth to the adults that he was having hairball problems, or the adults would surely refuse to have them with them to Hogsmeade. One did not feel obligated to protect someone that mocked one.

The doors of the castle had hardly opened before a haggard man fell in, visibly straining against his own movements as he entered. Harry recognised the man by the silver hand and rat-like face; Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail. The man looked up to see Harry's predatory smirk, and tried to scamper away, but his body refused to respond to his pleas and commands, and instead crawled through the Entrance Hall, unobstructed because everyone were surprised, and into the Great Hall, where the teachers were starting to leave the head table.

When he had fully entered the room, the haggard form of Wormtail stood slowly, and in a sobbing voice made his declaration.

'I, Peter Pettigrew, hereby come to pay the Wizarding Debt owed to Harry James Potter; by turning myself over to headmaster Albus Dumbledore, to be tried for all my crimes and clear the name of Sirius Orion Black.'

When the words were uttered, he spread his arms wide, exposing his form more easily, and waited.

Harry watched with a certain amount of pleasure as Dumbledore raised his wand and stunned the formerly fat man into unconsciousness. He also watched as for added security, Wormtail was placed in a Body-bind, and tied up with conjured rope and manacles. The manacles were compliments of Mr Filch, who had kept them well oiled for years in anticipation of use. To add insult to injury, Wormtail was also locked up with his thumbs in iron, in a glass bubble, in an escape proof room. After Sirius' escape in Harry's third year, Dumbledore had always made certain that they had one room to keep prisoners of war so they could not escape. Under the bubble was a tank of water with a few Grindylow floating about, should Wormtail come to, and escape from the bindings, ropes and bubble.

Needless to say that Apparation lessons were cancelled for that day.

* * *

As time has it, it passes quickly when one wishes it didn't. Thanks to Dumbledore, Wormtail was put before the Wizengamot and tried for treason and for being a Death Eater. He had received the Dementor's Kiss, and Sirius was cleared of all charges, much too late in Harry's opinion. Fudge was not happy about having been proved wrong about Sirius, and was still bitter about Harry and Dumbledore being right when Voldemort was concerned.

The exams were closing in, and all fifth and seventh years were in a fit, trying to recall everything they had learned in their time at Hogwarts.

The sixth years, or at least most of them, had gotten their Apparation license, and were simply studying for the exams. Neither Harry nor Hermione needed to, as they had memorised this year's curriculum within the first month of the year, and therefore had more time to train and spend time together. Since there were so many seventh and fifth years in the DA, the meetings slowed down to only take place in the morning, and those that wanted could show up before dinner. Harry thought this was more than reasonable, despite the grumblings of those stubborn students that had been trailing behind in classes and needed all the time they could get to prepare for the exams.

As he was too stubborn to ask Hermione or Harry for help, Ron took to shaking his other room mates for answers to his questions.

Ginny no longer had time to play pranks because of her OWLs. Since she was the youngest Weasley, it was up to her to make her parents prouder of her than they had been of their other offspring. Not that she declared this as her reason, but it was an underlying motive.

Harry found the exams unexpectedly easy, and he heard similar remarks from some of his students. Hermione was very proud of Harry's achievements, and demonstrated it by giving him a very sloppy kiss in front of the DA their fist meeting after the exams.

Gryffindor lost the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw this year, and Ron was very sensitive about it, so no one dared mention it around him, for fear that he'd curse them. Harry ignored the muttered comments about how Gryffindor would have won if Harry's DA schedule hadn't been so tiring, because the other houses had representatives in the DA while being members of their house teams, and had no such problems on the pitch.

Despite the end of the Quidditch season, the pitch was being kept in order. This was because of the coming competition between the Defence Association and the Duelling Club.

As the date neared, Malfoy became exceedingly cockier, and his "subordinates" took every chance they could to brag about their skills in fighting. Harry had forbidden his students from gloating like that, as it was a sure way to egg on someone that might be more powerful or cunning, thereby end up in one terrible way or another. Those that did try to brag found themselves receiving a mild electric shock, as they had their names written up on a list Harry had cursed himself. It was a secrecy controlled curse, meaning all those on it, which Harry and Hermione were not, that tried to spill any secrets Harry had told them not to, they would receive punishment. If the members tried to defy the secrecy even after three warnings in a row, they would be stunned immediately and expelled from the group, with a memory charm placed upon them to remove all knowledge of the DA activities.

* * *

The day before everyone were to leave for home, the two groups were called to the Quidditch pitch.

Once there, Dumbledore met the two groups and started to sort out whom were to compete.

The Duelling Club was given the privilege of choosing the form of combat, be it one-on-one, or all twelve as a group against the other group. Malfoy must have figured that safety was in numbers and that it would be over sooner if he had his members with him.

Harry was secretly pleased when Hermione's name was not drawn from the hat where the names had been placed, but he was also conflicting in feeling disappointed, as she was one of the top five of his group, and her talents would have been a great help. He settled for feeling happy that she would not be exposed to any nasty surprises that Malfoy might have up his sleeve, and consoling her with a hug for her not being picked. He was also slightly pleased that Ron was not picked either, as he didn't want to risk having friendly fire to look out for. Ginny was picked, and Harry had no arguments against it, as he would have been hexed into oblivion if he did.

Both groups were asked to dress in their uniforms.

The Duelling Club trooped onto the pitch wearing royal blue robes with silver lining, and black gloves made from dragon hide. The captain, Malfoy, also had a silver sash running diagonally from shoulder to hip.

The Defence Association wore what they had named Chameleon suits. They would take on the most common colour around it like a chameleon. Each of the twelve in the DA wore black belts, with a varying number of stars on them, twelve being the highest current number. Harry had on this number of stars on his belt, and wore a folded chameleon bandana on his head, with a golden triangle on the centre to signify his position.

What neither team had expected to find when they trooped onto the pitch, was that it had been transformed into a jungle with a path drawn up from the two entrances onto the pitch, meeting in a circular clearing in the middle.

'Welcome, all, to the promised competition between the Defence Association and the Duelling Club,' boomed Dumbledore's voice over the pitch, followed by the applause and cheering of the crowd. 'Very good!' the man chuckled. 'In Blue and silver, we have the Duelling Club, team captain Draco Malfoy.' A portion of the school applauded enthusiastically while a scattering merely applauded politely. 'And in what they have named Chameleon Suits, we have the Defence Association, team captain Harry Potter.'

This time a larger part of the school applauded.

'You might as well surrender now, Potter, and save yourself the humiliation of being put in a worse condition that you already are,' crowed Malfoy across the jungle. 'In your state, you won't be able to yell commands, like a captain is supposed to do, let along concentrate enough to cast a noticeable spell when we are raining down on you!'

Harry growled, comparing the blonde boy with a fly, very annoying and nearly impossible to swat … at least during most conditions.

'The jungle that has been erected,' continued Dumbledore, ignoring the goings on of the pitch, 'is the product of many hours study on the part of professors Flitwick and McGonagall.' At this the two professors blushed at the attention. 'They based their work on the excellent charms work performed by Messrs Fred and George Weasley, so there is nothing to worry about, the pitch will return to normal mere moments after this competition had finished. In respect to the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, the two professors has given the designs to them, in trade for a small royalty that will support them in their elder days. For those interested, a whole range of portable landscapes has been launched at the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley.'

Confused murmurs were heard even down on the pitch.

'Now that I've advertised the co-products worked out between our professors and Messrs Weasley, it is time to start, anytime you are ready, captains.'

Harry let out a roar that could be heard clear through Hogsmeade, and causing the villagers of the magical village to stop in their daily dealings and look to Hogwarts where the roar originated from. Several magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest stopped in their doings and looked in that direction as well. Many were frightened of the sound, as it was that of a very dangerous predator signalling dominance over others, and there were few that dared to challenge this sound.

The roar was the agreed upon signal for the DA to spread out as much as possible and hide from sight, making them difficult to hit at best.

Harry's orders were obeyed without questions and not two seconds after the roar had sounded, the Duelling Club was unable to see a single member of the Defence Association. The rustling of leaves stopped five seconds after that, but it was very clear that the DA was still out there, moving into positions that would give them the strategic edge.

The Duelling Club had not trained for guerrilla warfare, but rather regular duelling, one-on-one, and quickly bunched together in one tight group. They made their way to the clearing, so they could have a better view, and on the way, not a sound was heard from the DA. This owed to Harry's very strict and rigorous training in agility, strategy and a daily exposure to surprises.

Once the Duelling Club had reached the clearing, they stopped and carefully scrutinised the area. Everything was silent, even the crowds watching were silent as they watched with baited breaths.

A whisper in the wind was barely heard before one of the twelve blue was hit with a tickling curse.

The Duelling Club members started shooting every curse and hex they knew in the direction it came from, but a stunner zipped in from the opposite direction. The direction of the firing changed, only to experience being hit from different directions every time. This was part of Harry's instructions as well. Keep the enemy confused about where to shoot, and slowly wear down their strength and defences. The energy spent on reviving the stunned member, or lifting the tickling curse could have been spent on other things. The haphazardly shooting of spells was something the DA members had been drilled not to do from the beginning of the year, they were only to shoot when they had a clear shot, to preserve magical strength. The Duelling Club had had no such instructions, and shot every time a leaf fell or a shadow was seen.

Malfoy caught on to the game they were being played, and demanded his members to halt until they saw something real.

This was the signal for the DA to fire a volley all at once before restoring the rapid and random fire.

This sudden change caused the order given by Malfoy to be forgotten as the Duelling Club members struggled to defend themselves and revive their fallen comrades.

Harry was forced to duck a few times to avoid the randomly aimed spells and curses. He never had to duck far, however, and made sure to keep in one piece, or Hermione would be wearing his tackle for jewellery.

Slowly, the members were unable to keep up the steadily increasing pace the DA were keeping, and victory was assured. Harry finished the competition by leaping out from a shadow and incapacitating Malfoy, the last standing member of the Duelling Club, with a Body-bind.

As Harry came into the clearing with his own group, a horn sounded, declaring the end of the event. Harry joined the horn with a mighty and victorious roar, which was cut short as a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, and his vision was blurred by brown locks of hair. Hermione could obviously not wait for him to come off the pitch before attacking him with her embraces.

Madam Pomfrey came out on the pitch, and was not in the greatest of moods as she fixed the injured students, muttering about mad old codgers sending her students out to fight each other. Harry was on the receiving end of a glare, but managed to escape because Hermione was hungry and the End of Year Feast was about to be served. Harry was just glad he hadn't gotten himself injured in any way during the fight, or he'd _really_ be neck-deep in trouble with madam Pomfrey. So far this year, he felt he had done a good job of not ending up in the Hospital Wing, barring the whole botched Animagus transformation incident which he was still stuck in.

The river of students flowed uphill to the castle and into the Great Hall. Harry and Hermione hopped in, and went with the stream.

'May I have your attention, please,' spoke Dumbledore serenely from his seat. How he managed to arrive first despite his very old age was beyond Harry. 'Yes, that was a very good display of skill by both groups, and judging by the popularity, I believe we shall see more of this competition between them. I believe there are the points to be read up, and decorations to be displayed. In last place for the House Cup, we have oddly enough, Ravenclaw with three-hundred and fifty-seven points.'

Harry and Hermione smirked evilly as they heard this. The two of them had been hogging their professor's attention in class, not leaving the Ravenclaw students in their year a single opportunity to answer. Harry was certain that some of the Ravenclaws would blame Harry for his demanding schedule, but didn't care anything about it.

'In third place, we have Hufflepuff, with three-hundred and seventy points,' continued Dumbledore.

It was clear that the Hufflepuffs were happy about not being placed last.

'Second place goes to Gryffindor,' a loud groan went out from the Gryffindor table, 'with four-hundred and sixty-nine points.'

For a moment, Harry wondered what caused them to lose first place in the House Cup.

'And lastly, Slytherin in first place with four-hundred and seventy points,' finished Dumbledore. 'And by that, we will arrange the decorations.'

The headmaster clapped his hands, and the Slytherin banner suddenly decorated the Great Hall. The Slytherins cheered, and gloated openly.

'However, we must add something to the decorations,' added Dumbledore with a smile. He once more clapped his hands, and the banner of the Defence Association suddenly appeared behind the headmaster. It was bright gold with red lettering. A wand and a sword crossed over a shield, and a winged pair of boots were parked at the bottom of the shield. A pitch black panther prowled along the banner, occasionally stopping to peer out or roar. As Dumbledore raised his hands to summon the food to the tables, the panther lay down behind the shield, watching the hall with its glowing green eyes. Dean had really outdone himself on this.

'The Quidditch Cup must have made the deciding points for Slytherin,' Hermione concluded.

Harry nodded solemnly and dug into his food.

'At least we had some representation in the decorations …' she sighed and slapped Harry's elbows off the table before picking up her cutlery. Harry growled out of habit, but obeyed her instructions without much complaint. She had been subtly improving his manners over the time they had been a couple, not that there was much to correct, but Harry had a tendency to forget small things like not placing his elbows on the table. Things like speaking with his mouth full or chewing with his mouth closed were not issues he could do anything about until he had managed to return to human form.

The rest of the meal was peaceful, if one ignored the complaints of woe from the Ravenclaws about being placed last in the House Cup, and the victorious taunting of the Slytherins who had won both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, plucking the victory right from under the Gryffindors' noses.

Eventually, Dumbledore dismissed them all to bed, and wished them a fair journey back to their homes, and a safe summer.

* * *

The following morning, there was the usual bustle about packing and cleaning. Harry and Hermione met in the common room after dressing for the day, forgoing the usual morning training because of the time they would be leaving. It would be before eleven, and there was no sense in unpacking more clothes than necessary by training and changing again.

Most students slept in because of the late night yesterday, with all its excitement, and came scurrying into the Great Hall for a bite of toast and a sip of pumpkin juice half an hour before the Hogwarts Express was to leave Hogsmeade station.

Ron was even later, and had to run to catch up with the last carriage to the station, leaving his luggage to be handled by the house-elves in the Entrance Hall like everyone else were supposed to.

Once more, Harry managed to hijack a compartment, but Hermione was but a tail's length away, followed by Ginny, Luna and Neville. Harry and Hermione had just gotten comfortable in each other's arms when Ron appeared at their door. He looked like he was about to say something, but sighed and did not. Luna stood and dragged the redheaded boy inside before placing him directly in front of Harry and Hermione.

'Come on, Ronald, like you practiced …' encouraged Luna in her airy tone.

Ron blushed brightly at the hidden command and studied his toes, which were trying to gouge a hole in the floor through his shoes.

'I'm sorry I've been such an arse these past months,' he muttered quickly before sitting down and unfolding an issue of _the Quibbler_ in front of his face.

Harry was too engrossed in enjoying Hermione's close presence to care if the apology was stated hurriedly, and merely started purring as he nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his fur and whiskers. Hermione, between giggles, accepted the apology and settled for a nice and cosy read as she reclined over Harry's body. No words were spoken for a while, and the warm sunlight that filtered through the window caused Harry to stretch even more and purr even louder.

Malfoy had apparently decided not to grace them with his presence, for which they were immensely glad.

Harry simply marvelled in how comforting and lasting a hug could be, barely able to concentrate on the written words of the book Hermione was holding in front of them.

The trip was made in silence, everyone simply enjoying the silence that was only interrupted by the thuds of the wheels of the train hitting a new rail every few seconds. Not even the hoot of an owl could be heard, for the simple reason that since Harry's transformation, hardly any owl dared come near him for more than a second, and to save them the terrified hoots of Pigwidgeon, Harry and Ron had, without being aware of the other, sent their owls ahead of them the night before. Crookshanks was out of his carrier, and was curled up in Hermione's lap, knowing full well whom the alpha-male was in the compartment, and not confident enough to attempt taking over that position. Crookshanks may be a cat, but not a fool.

After hours of waiting, the train slowed to a stop at platform nine and three-quarters on King's Cross.

Their trunks, which had appeared just before they closed the door of their compartment, were lugged from the overhead rack, and onto trolleys on the outside of the train. Crookshanks willingly entered his carrier when Harry glared at him, making Hermione's job much easier. Harry drew on the heavy cloak he had put on that morning, obscuring most of his features, except his large frame.

A few Ministry Aurors stood on the platform and oversaw the students as they walked through the barrier, making sure they wouldn't be noticed by the Muggles.

Harry and Hermione came through together, and were nearly attacked by Mrs Weasley as she saw them before they saw her.

Ron and Ginny soon followed out the barrier, and were also attacked by Mrs Weasley.

While Mrs Weasley was occupied, the other members of the Order came up to them, and greeted them. Tonks appeared with neon green hair that day, and seemed infinitely amused at Harry's new appearance. After a moment, Moody pointed out Harry's uncle, Vernon, in the far end of the station. It was probably sheer coincidence that he happened to stand nearly right next to the doctors Granger.

Harry led the way for Hermione, followed by Lupin, Tonks, Dung and Moody, cutting a path through the crows of commuting Muggles.

Uncle Vernon was visibly shaken at seeing such a large hulking form making its way though the throng of people, directly at him. It didn't help that the form was not discernable as any man or woman he had seen, and followed by those freaks that had threatened him the year before.

Uncle Vernon, wrote Harry, making sure he saw the sign.

A glimmer of light made the face under the hood visible to the fat fool, and he would have screamed if Harry hadn't discreetly pointed his wand at him and placed him under a silencing spell. After three seconds of screaming without making a sound, uncle Vernon's fear of looking strange took over, and he shut up. By now, Hermione had gotten her parents' attention and waved them over to save on time and effort.

You were informed of my condition, despite its phrasing, it was not a question but a statement, meant not only for uncle Vernon, but the Grangers as well. All three Muggles nodded. Good, that saves me some attention from passers by, waving a sign instead of using sign language has a noticeable effect.

'So,' started Hermione's mother, 'you are the young man whom has captured our daughter's heart.' Harry felt himself being scrutinised for a few moments. 'How much of the change is present in your appearance?' she finally asked. 'Is all by the feline features your personal body, or is there more to the change?'

'We aren't certain, mother,' stated Hermione, 'When he arrived at headquarters, he was nearly a head shorter than me, after the change, he gained about a foot in height, and he's grown even more since then.'

'But that could just be a part of the change, you mean?' chipped in Hermione's father. For a brief moment, Harry saw where Hermione's intellect came from … both of them. 'Fascinating, how much of a change would you think there would be when he changes back to normal?'

You mean; if I ever do …

'My good man, everything that goes up, must come down,' laughed the good doctor, 'you will return to your normal state eventually, you just need to find out what will trigger it.'

Harry nodded, mulling this new angle over in his mind.

'Well, best not stay too long, Potter,' growled Moody, looking out at the crowd from under his bowler hat, 'all the colours your uncle's face has gone through is bound to draw some attention.'

Harry looked down at his uncle, and saw that his face was currently changing from purple to pale white and back to red. Most likely from suppressing a very wide range of emotions, and from restraining his normal commanding attitude towards Harry when it came to his weirdness and other people finding out about it.

Where are my manners, Harry wrote, managing to sound repentant at having forgotten. I am indeed Harry Potter, current – and permanently if I have a say in it – mate of your daughter. This is my uncle Vernon Dursley. Harry saw his uncle get angry about being introduced so casually through signs. Uncle Vernon, these are the parents of my mate – er – girlfriend, Dr Granger and his wife Dr Granger, they are dentists.

This last bit caused uncle Vernon's face to return to its normal colour, and suddenly become the epitome of kindness. Harry realised that as an executive of Grunnings, a drill company, he saw the opportunity for a sale if he played his cards right, and right now; the kind and caring uncle bit seemed as the right thing to act.

Harry tuned out his uncle's attempts at pleasantry and turned his attention to Hermione instead.

'Promise you'll write?' she asked in a teary voice, as though she just realised they would be apart for a while.

I may even do you one better and come in person, Harry answered and drew her face in under his hood for a kiss. Hermione threw her arms around him and dried her tears on Harry's shirt after the kiss.

'I miss you already,' she whispered.

Harry watched as Hermione and her parents made their way through the station, feeling nearly empty without Hermione near him, and judging from the teary looks she sent him every few feet, she felt the same. Tonks and Dung were her escort, he idly noticed as the five rounded a corner.

Before uncle Vernon could turn on Harry, Moody stepped into the man's view, and growled.

'The warning from last year still stands, Dursley,' Harry heard. 'But this year, Potter is allowed to do magic out of school, so mind you don't make him cross, or he'll exact revenge himself. I hear your son got a pig's tail a few years back, let me tell you, Potter is one of the most brilliant students of his year, and the fellow that did that deed to your son never came half as far in his education as Potter has so far, which means anything he does will – be – infinitely – worse.'

With those words of farewell, Moody and Lupin turned and left, most likely to turn invisible and follow at a slight distance.

'Well, boy,' growled uncle Vernon, 'get a move on, we can't obstruct the paths of normal people all day.'

Harry surprised his uncle by reaching out with great furry hands, that could pass for gloves unless one looked carefully, and picked up his visibly heavy trunk with ease before heaving it onto one shoulder, stuffing Hedwig's cage under the other arm, standing ready to leave.

Harry gave a snort to indicate that his uncle should take his own advice before starting to walk out the doors, headed for the new company car his uncle had gotten, as the previous one had gone out of style last week.

'Listen carefully, boy,' uncle Vernon warned in a threatening manner, despite the words of advice Moody had impressed upon him, 'your aunt Marge is staying with us for a while, as she has fallen on bad luck. We will not tolerate too much freakishness around her.'

Harry nodded to keep from making an incident, and listened with half a ear to his uncle muttering about irresponsible children antagonising Marge's dogs, about doctor bills and law suits, and about stupid breeding laws for dogs and senile old coots that can't keep a few measly dogs in line. All the while, his smile grew wider in restrained mirth at the ironies of life. All his life, aunt Marge had complained about Harry lazing about the house and being ungrateful for what he got. Now, she was bankrupt and living off her brother … all because of one dog that got away from her home and bit a child. Oh, Harry would be able to amuse himself with that image for weeks, and maybe rub her nose in it too.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 2

Seventh Year

Harry sat quietly all the way back to Privet Drive, listening to the beautiful symphony of his uncle cursing the government for their laws, children for not letting sleeping dogs lie, and motorists that must have found their license in the street rather than going through tests and inspections like law-abiding people should.

He was slightly peeved at not being able to remove his cloak and hood for a while, as the sun was shining and tempting him.

As they pulled up to number four, Harry felt the car get lighter of its own accord, and looked behind to see that his trunk and cage had gone. He had sensed no danger, but decided to investigate once he got to his room. Uncle Vernon was very surprised to find that Harry wasn't even taking his trunk out, and nearly had an aneurism when he found there was no trunk in the car.

In the living room, Harry could both smell and hear aunt Marge, as she was drinking heavily from a glass of sherry.

Harry would have gone up the stairs without notice if fear didn't run up his spine. His mate was in danger!

No sooner had he thought this, before a huge hulking form of a beast stood in his place, as tall as a man at the shoulders, green glowing eyes, and a black mist that seemed to stay close to the fur and making it look like it was made of shadows.

Dudley was the one watching that was the most frightened, as those green eyes turned on him, and a deep rumbling growl was heard.

The beast pounced at Dudley, making the terrified boy wet himself and shriek in fear. He genuinely believed his last hour was up.

Before the beast of a panther made any contact with Dudley, it seemed to sink into his shadow, as though it were a doorway.

The residents of number four Privet Drive were all terrified of where that hulking beast might appear next.

* * *

On the other end of London, Hermione was crawling backwards and away from the Death Eaters towering over her. Tonks and Dung were busy defending her parents and she had lost her wand a few moments into the battle. The Death Eaters wouldn't let her get close enough for her Martial Arts training to be effective, and in her distress, she had stepped on a rock and fallen on her bum.

Hermione knew that she would either be killed on the spot as a Mudblood or she would be tortured into insanity for being friends with Harry.

The middle Death Eater removed her mask to reveal Bellatrix Lestrange, a maniacal grin on her face.

'Well, well, well,' she started and took a step closer. 'It's the Mudblood friend of ickle baby Potter. What an unexpected pleasure.'

'She will make a good bait,' commented the Death Eater on Bellatrix's right, 'she and Potter are supposed to be an item. He's bound to come for her when he hears we have her.'

Any further musings were interrupted by a threatening growl.

'Did you hear that?' asked the one on the left.

'Sounded too much like an angry Nundu for my tastes …' mumbled the fourth. 'And I know what they sound like, I used to hide in Africa to avoid Aurors.'

'Come to your senses, dolts,' snapped Bellatrix. 'We are too far north for a Nundu to roam about, and besides, do you see anything big enough to hide a creature bigger than an elephant? It must have been one of those Muggle inventions, cars I think.'

The growl returned with an undertone of a yowl.

'I- I d-d-don't kn-know about you, Lestrange, b-bu-b-but I'm not about to s-stay here and find out if I heard right or if it's a trick,' stuttered the one on the right.

'Fine, we bring the little Mudblood with us, but you will be he ones to explain to the Dark Lord why you were frightened of something you can't see,' snapped Bellatrix, but her snappish attitude seemed to be cover for fear.

However, as the three stooges tried to step closer to Hermione, a shadow leapt out at them, bowling the four over and pressing them into the ground with its massive size. The four Death Eaters shrieked in fear as they stared into the steaming maw of the largest panther to ever walk the earth, easily larger than a rhinoceros, and with claws that merely looked like they could shred an armoured tank, but instinctively everyone knew they could do more. The deep rumbling growl this beast of huge teeth and claws made was enough to distract the five Death Eaters that were trying to get past Tonks and Dung to the Grangers, and the two Order members took the advantage.

The four that were being pressed into the ground found themselves unable to move, and the beast was not likely to let them either.

Hermione, who had by now gotten back to her feet and found her wand, stared at the beast before carefully approaching it.

The beast looked up with its piercing green eyes and started purring before pouncing her. The four on the ground were unable to move, as not only did one or two of them sport broken limbs, but what appeared like ropes sprung out of their shadows and bound them tightly, gagging them and blindfolding them.

Hermione had a brief moment of panic before she was bowled over by an extremely large kitten that started licking her face.

The beast vanished and a fairly handsome man was kneeling in its place. Hermione looked up to see familiar green eyes and lightning bolt scar, and realised instantly whom her saviour was.

'Harry!' she shrieked so loudly that only Harry caught it. She now lunged at him, nearly choking him with her excited strength.

'I'm back,' Harry breathed into Hermione's neck. Although it felt nearly just as when he had the changed form, he knew he was normal again, yet it surprised him that he was still as tall and strong as he was in his changed form. When Hermione yelped slightly as Harry drew back, he also realised that he needed a shave.

'I missed you,' Hermione whispered before forcing his head into a passionate, yet chaste, kiss.

As the kiss ended, Harry saw that Dung and Tonks were finishing the securing of their prisoners.

'I have to go now,' said Harry sadly. 'But I'll be back tomorrow whether Dumbledore allows me or not.'

Hermione sees the look he sent at Tonks and Dung, and agreed, whispering to him to come after six in the evening so they could have dinner first.

A quick peck later, Harry Apparated away, reappearing at the exact same spot he had vacated in number four Privet Drive.

'What is the meaning of this, boy?' demanded uncle Vernon once Harry stepped within view of the living room, where both Dudley and aunt Marge lay unconscious to the world. Aunt Marge sported a very large stain of red on her blouse.

'I was needed,' answered Harry calmly, it was an odd feeling; being unable to properly express himself for so long only to regain the ability again, 'and I went to help. Now, I believe Marjory needs to have her memory altered, as our laws dictate she must, _Obliviate_!'

Aunt Marge twitched on the ground. Not being the most proficient in memory altering charms, Harry had to give verbal instructions.

'The reason why you were so startled just now was that I, Harry Potter, dropped my trunk while I was climbing the stairs. You were standing at the bottom, and fainted in a combination of fear and alcohol. Dudley, being the _considerate_ and _sensitive_ boy he is, fainted because he thought I had killed his favourite aunt.'

Harry broke his stare at the fainted woman and moved it to aunt Petunia.

'Now if you would excuse me, I have a bone to pick with a certain house-elf that I suspect has stowed away with my luggage.'

Harry's instincts were proven correct, as when he entered the small bedroom that had been his for the past five summers, he was greeted by two merry house-elves.

'Master is fixed!' squeaked Winky happily and took the liberty of hugging Harry around the knees. After a moment she realised what she was doing. 'Oh, bad Winky, bad!' she reprimanded.

'Winky,' Harry interrupted in a gentle yet commanding tone, 'if you wish to remain in my service then refrain from doing yourself injury on purpose. If you do something inappropriate; report it to me, and I will decide on a punishment or reward as I see fit, do I make myself clear?'

Winky, clearly not expecting this, nodded slowly.

'The same applies to you, Dobby,' Harry added, looking at the significantly lessened heap of clothes that was Dobby.

'Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir!' chirped a nearly ecstatic voice through the clothing.

'Very well, the rules I expect you to follow are these; I am not going to give either of you clothing,' continued Harry, 'but I would like very much for you to wear some anyway, and please limit yourself to one set of clothes at a time, Dobby.

'Second, you must not be seen by Muggles, understood?' both house-elves nodded quickly. 'Lastly, do not use magic on anyone unless they are about to cause you, me or my guests any harm.

'Now, the only space I have to offer you as your quarters is my closet, will it suffice, or should I try and make something?'

'Oh, no,' thanked Winky, 'the closet is most generous, Winky and Dobby will be most happy there.' Dobby nodded his consent.

'Very well,' nodded Harry, 'I'll leave you to yours, I have a few errands to run, or rather, a full day of training to catch up on.'

* * *

After Harry had made himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he could get in that small room, the doorbell rang, and Tonks was at the door, on orders from the Order to find out what had happened. Harry gave her the less fantastic version of the events, stating that he felt a twinge in his scar and knew that the one in the most danger would be Hermione so he Apparated to her and managed to change into his panther form, not revealing that his Animagus form was nearly three times the size of a tiger in mass. Tonks had accepted his story at face value, and returned to headquarters.

His assignments were done and out of the way before dark came over number four.

Harry continued his training even with the Spartan amount of equipment he had available.

However, he was not satisfied with his book selection. So one week into the holiday, he made up his mind, and did what he normally only did at six every evening, and Apparated to Hermione's room, surprising the witch from her assignments.

'Harry! What are you doing here so early?' she demanded in a worried tone, 'Nothing's wrong, is it?'

Harry merely smiled in adoration and earned a playful jab in his arm for not answering her.

'No, nothing's wring,' he finally answered. 'I just have some errands to run in Diagon Alley, and thought you might have liked to join me.'

Hermione squealed in delight and raced out of the room. Harry could hear her pick up the telephone and call her parents' office to let them know she would be out with Harry. Then the woman raced back into her room, pecked Harry on the nose before grabbing some new clothes from her wardrobe and raced back out to the bathroom to change into them, muttering something about what she was wearing not being appropriate for a day out.

Harry merely shook his head and grinned. He'd never understand the workings of the female mind. He wasn't even sure he would have taken the opportunity to do so if it was offered to him, it was always good with a little mystery in life, as long as it isn't dangerous.

Hermione stepped back in, wearing a yellow summer dress that flared out as she did a little spin for him, waiting for his opinion.

'You look lovely,' grinned Harry.

'You'd say that if I wore a burlap sack,' muttered Hermione with a slight blush.

'Is there anything wrong with my girlfriend looking good in anything?' asked Harry and stepped over to her. 'Do you have your wand with you?' he asked, already knowing the answer. Hermione nodded and reached towards her neck, as though she had an itch there, before producing her wand, perfectly hidden between her shoulders, concealed by her bushy hair and dress. 'Good, but how fast will you be able to reach it in an emergency?'

'As quickly as you can snap your wand from your holster,' she replied proudly.

'Good,' replied Harry as he drew his girlfriend into a hug, 'but we could both do better.'

'I think drawing a wand so fast that it looks like it just appeared is fast enough,' countered Hermione.

'To draw a wand at that speed and have a spell fired at the same time would be better,' returned Harry. 'But we aren't going to discuss how to further our abilities all day, are we? Come on, tag along with me, the Apparation point in Diagon Alley.'

Using his Muggle raised imagination, Harry had long ago discovered that he could use a silencing charm to keep from making a sound when Apparating, and taught his students as much. This was how Harry and Hermione appeared in Diagon Alley without making a sound to signal their arrival.

No one were surprised, as they were too occupied with their own lives to take any notice of unimportant things like someone Apparating without a sound.

'Gringotts first,' stated Harry at Hermione's inquiring look. 'I need to make arrangements to make my money more accessible in the Muggle world.'

Hermione asked no questions and merely nodded before following him down the cobbled road.

The pair walked through the relatively small crowd of wizards and witches, so small in number because of the still not posted supply lists for students, heading directly for the large white marble building. Hermione looked slightly giddy at spending her day with Harry in such a public place as Diagon Alley, but he wasn't complaining, he was positively giddy as well. The reason for his giddiness was that he had been unable to spend more than a few minutes with Hermione before her parents sent her to do something for them, as though they did not trust the two of them to behave responsibly. They probably didn't, after all, they had once been teenagers themselves, and knew how difficult controlling ones hormones would be.

'Oh, look, they've made a new broom,' Harry heard a little boy exclaim to another in awe.

'It looks beautiful … the "Lightningbolt" it's supposed to be the fastest there is, according to the owner of the shop. Look, it even has a little engraved lightning bolt on the handle!'

Harry cast a glance at it before doing a double-take and pressing his face against the window.

Inside was a large cut-out cardboard figure of him at age fourteen, holding a broom and grinning out at the world, occasionally even winking. The engraved lightning bolt on the handle of the broom was a clear replica of his scar.

This made Harry angry. He had not been asked for permission to have his image used to sell brooms. If he had been asked, he would have said yes at once so that he at least made some contribution to the world of Quidditch, but now, he was not so kind. However, instead of making a scene in the middle of a crowded street, Harry glared one last time at the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop before continuing his trek to Gringotts, he now had an extra errand to arrange there.

Once inside, Harry spotted a familiar face and made directly for it.

'Griphook, I need some assistance,' he stated urgently yet commanding. The goblin looked surprised that Harry knew his name, and after a moment his eyes flitted towards Harry's scar, clearly exposed.

'Ah, Mr Potter,' he stated in recognition, 'I am honoured that you remember my name. What may I be of assistance in?'

'Is there somewhere we can talk without being overheard?' asked Harry carefully. Hermione simply waited patiently.

'Of course,' stated the pleased goblin as it grinned and showed teeth that looked like nails, 'if you would follow me, we have a few customers waiting for you already.'

'Really?' asked Harry, surprised that someone could anticipate his randomly chosen day and arrive at his first destination before him.

'They have been waiting in the same room for well over a week, Mr Potter,' explained Griphook. 'And I can assure you that their intentions are not hostile. We value our customers too much to allow them to be injured inside our own bank.'

'Well then, we'd best not keep them waiting any longer, Hermione …'

Griphook blinked in surprise that Hermione was with Harry, but got over it and led them through a set of doors behind the counters. On the other side of the door ran a long corridor that was dotted with doors, all sporting gold plaques with either names or indication of the purpose of the room behind it.

Griphook stopped before a door marked; "Conference Room # 032".

'I will be waiting outside the door if anything else will be needed after the meeting.'

Harry nodded cautiously and entered the room, closely followed by Hermione. The room was very dark, and only above a table was there any light.

Inside was a collection of figures that halted their idle chatter as soon as the door opened.

'Mr Potter,' hissed one figure, female, and stepped out of the shadow she had been hiding in. 'Please, enter, we have important issues to discuss.'

Harry did as asked, but his hands were ready to go for his wand, and his body was ready to dodge or attack at a mere fraction of a second of notice. Hermione stayed close to him, also prepared for battle.

'There is no need for weariness, even if it is appreciated that you do not trust everyone,' growled a man that stepped up beside the woman, although specific features were not clear on either of them. 'Please, have a seat, we have all been waiting for you.'

Harry took Hermione's hand and led her to the loveseat around the table. More figures started closing in on the table.

'My name is Nanya, I represent the Vampire Community,' stated the woman. Her hair was as red as blood, as were her eyes and fingernails, her smile displayed wicked fangs. Her complexion was so pale that she nearly glowed in the light. Her white dress hardly covered anything but the important parts, and what enticing parts they were. Harry enforced his Occlumency barriers to keep his hormones intact along with his manhood if Hermione ever found out.

'I am Fenris,' said the man, 'and I represent the Werebeast Community.' There was definitely something bestial about this man, who smiled to show his larger canines. Unlike Lupin, this man was not shabby, neither in clothing or appearance, but several parts of his clothes had added "Tear-off" lines, to allow for either quick removal, or anticipating something to burst out.

Another woman took a seat around the table, and leaned back elegantly. 'I am known as Tenae, and I represent the Elven Society.' Only when she had said this did Harry notice that the top of her ears came to points, sticking only just out of her sleek black hair. Green robes covered the tight green top and pants. Daggers, a bow and a quiver of arrows rested on her seat.

A third woman stepped out of the shadows, platinum blonde hair and a fatal beauty. 'I am the representative for the Veela Community, and go by the name of Belle.' Harry could feel the veela charms banging on his Occlumency shields but would not give in, which Hermione obviously feared if her tightening grip was anything to go by. The woman wore blue robes that really flattered her.

'I am the Lord of Azkaban,' breathed a man that remained cloaked in shadows, 'and I speak for the dementors.'

Harry didn't feel at ease with this man, but kept it to himself for now.

'I represent the Freelance Branch of the Unspeakables, and go by the name of Jenkins,' snapped a very powerful looking man in a military tone. His face was riddled with visible scars, though none as bad as Moody's. Harry could see at least three wand holsters spread on him. He wore a black cloak and robes of dragon hide, the small scales glistening in the light.

A form wheeled itself out of the shadows, revealing itself to be a tank filled with water, like an aquarium, and inside was a mermaid, grey in skin tone, and webbed fingers pressed against the glass. 'I am the representative of the Merpeople, and have yet to earn a name,' she sang in a tone that managed to come through the water and glass strongly enough to be heard. Her breasts were covered by her greenish hair, which floated in a strategic manner.

Yet another woman stepped out of the shadows, her person riddled with weapons of any kind. What did not go with this dangerous look, was the bright pink hair that reached to her knees, knotted into a whip-like braid, framing her Asian face. She also wore black, but tight and woollen articles instead, but Harry was sure there was more woven into the fabric then wool, 'I am Pinku, and I represent the Magical Assassination Industry.' She finished by winking at Harry and blew him a kiss. Hermione's grip tightened slightly again, but Harry patted her hand comfortingly.

A green light lit up in the dark, and it flew to the centre of the table where it landed on an extinguished candle and went out, revealing a tiny woman with green skin and darker hair, as well as a pair of dragonfly wings on her back. 'Nymph, princess of the Fairies.' She squeaked in a very tiny voice. She wasn' lacking in confidence, but given her size, it was a tiny voice. She wore nothing, but she was really too tiny for any details to be noticed unless one leaved close enough for her to climb onto ones nose.

'Hello,' greeted Harry, 'this is Hermione, my girlfriend and confidant.' Hermione waved quickly. 'Is there a purpose for this meeting, or did you just feel like meeting me?'

A series of snorts rung around the room.

'We came to discuss the war,' stated Nanya.

'What about it?' asked Harry.

'At some time during the last year, most of us were contacted by representatives of the Dark Lord,' blurted Nymph, a slight glow signifying that the fairies were not among the contacted.

'And we now came to contact the side of light to hear their proposals so we can make up our minds,' supplied the Lord of Azkaban.

'Naturally, the one who brought the Dark Lord to his end the last time is the best candidate for us to approach,' continued Nanya, 'and we all came here separately, but all with the same idea, that at some time you would arrive for withdrawals. So, what offers can you tempt us with to gain our communities as allies?'

This subject seemed to interest the rest of them, and they all leaned forward slightly from their seats.

Harry was surprised, to say the least, and sat in silence for a while, as he tried to figure out what he could offer them in exchange for their services.

'I'm sorry,' he finally sighed. 'There is nothing I can offer for your alliances. Although I could have offered gold, I don't like the idea of bribery … that is something Voldemort's supporters deal in, and I want nothing to do with them. But I would have appreciated it if you at least stayed neutral in the war, so neither side had your help, at least that would be more fair and none of you would lose any of your people … although how fair it is with the giants siding with him …'

There was a moment of silence before the delegates started smiling.

'That is what we wished to hear,' declared Fenris.

Harry looked between the smiling faces and Hermione, who was equally confused.

'You do not wish to buy our support,' explained Pinku. 'You do not wish us to sacrifice our people in your wizarding war even to even your odds.'

'For that reason, we will do as you suggest and stay out of the war,' growled Jenkins. 'However, be warned that if either side attack us, we will join the other side.'

'We will return to our leaders and relay your message,' said Bell in a voice that sounded like crystal bells.

'And as a Show of Faith,' added Pinku, 'we have agreed to share a little knowledge with you,' the so far silent Tenae brought out a thick book. 'This book was made as we all awaited your arrival, and contains small bits of information that will not hurt our people if found out by outsiders. Some of our specialised magic and equipment are described there.'

'Now, if you'd excuse us,' Nanya put in, 'we have to pack up our things … it was nice speaking with you, Green-eyes.'

Harry and Hermione stood at the polite dismissal, and headed for the doors.

'Mr Potter, a moment, please,' breathed Azkaban.

The pair stopped just before the door and waited for the man to glide close enough for conversation.

'My subjects will not bother you any more,' the Lord breathed, 'those are my orders, and those whom disobey them cease to exist. Your shields will keep out their effects, but they may still steal your soul, which is why I have forbidden them to do so. Lead a good and productive life, and fear not for my subjects.'

The shadowy figure glided back into the room, leaving the two teens to exit the room.

On the outside of the door, Griphook was waiting patiently and humming some rough tune that no doubt was some goblin ditty.

'Ah, you've finished,' he started as he saw them. 'Our director Mr Spearhead is waiting for you in his office to conduct whatever business you wanted to get done. Follow me, please.'

Hermione, still a little on edge about the whole meeting that had just taken place, clung to Harry to keep him from getting away from her. They both followed the short creature down the same hallway, but instead of stopping at the many doors, they went on to the edge, where the hallway widened out to a small atrium with only one door. Griphook opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

'Mr Potter,' greeted a very old looking goblin with eyes that nearly reminded Harry of Dumbledore, had it not been for the small glint of greed that no goblin seemed to be without. 'How kind of you to join us, and what may I help you with?'

Harry helped Hermione into the seat in front of the desk and stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

'A few things, actually,' stated Harry. 'Firstly, some companies has been using my image, mark and name to sell their products without my consent. I want that to stop, could you act as my solicitors in the matter and either end it or get all mentioned parts copyrighted? But keep away from the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, they have my approval.'

'I think we can arrange something,' grinned the old goblin, showing a row of yellow teeth that looked like nails. 'There will be a fee of ten per cent of every case we win, of course, as your case is a very solid one. The next item is …?'

'As you may know, I live in a Muggle community,' Harry began and waited for the goblin to nod. 'As such I may need Muggle currency without having the time to stop by and exchange my gold into proper currency. I hoped that you may have a solution to my problem …'

'That we do,' answered the old goblin, still grinning, although not as malicious as before. 'Many Muggle born clients have made that very same statement, and we have gone to very great lengths to do something about it … however, it will not be cheap. You will be able to afford it easily, no problem there, but we have to warn you anyway.' The goblin rooted through a drawer in his desk and out came a white card in a metallic plastic colour. 'This is our solution. It looks and acts exactly like a Muggle credit card with a few exceptions for safety.

'Firstly, it costs one thousand galleons to have, something not many wizards wish to afford themselves to spend, even if it is a onetime fee. You need only place your key to the card for it to have your personal information and vault number. One of our employees has been assigned to monitor strange credit cards through a Muggle network, and correct them from Muggle eyes while making the proper withdrawals.

'Secondly, security, only the owner of the key will be able to use the card and it doesn't matter what code he or she punches, it will only work when presented by the owner. If someone other than the owner tries to use the card, it will fail, and the card will be cut by the employees of the shop or restaurant it is used, thereby also costing the owner another thousand to get another card.

'Thirdly, unlike the Muggle cards, these cards do not have a limit beyond the capacity of the vault or vaults it is keyed into.

'And finally, this card can be used in wizarding shops and restaurants as well, you need only to hand the card to the employee that will handle the register,' Spearhead grinned in what appeared to look like a pleasant smile. 'Would you like one?' he asked Harry.

Harry thought about it for merely a moment before agreeing.

'Harry,' Hermione hissed, 'that is over five thousand pounds! Are you insane? You can't afford that!'

Harry smiled kindly at her and patted her head. 'We need to visit my vault soon,' he whispered.

'Very well, Mr Potter, will there be anything else?' asked Spearhead.

'No, that will be all,' Harry thanked and accepted the card, pressing his key into it as told. Immediately the front of the card took on a bold writing that stated it to be a Mastercard from Visa, and the back took on his picture, age and so on.

'Here is your receipt, and we will be in touch with you on the lawsuit issues,' finished Spearhead. 'Have a very pleasant day!'

Hermione was not a happy person, something Harry could feel, and even hear as soon as they left the office, because she gave him an earful that lasted until Harry and Griphook took her to Harry's vault. The sight of nearly an entire mountain of gold caused Hermione to shut up and gape in awe instead.

'If you think this is much,' commented Griphook, 'you should see the other vaults, they contain even more than this trust fund vault.'

Harry froze and stared into space.

'More vaults?' asked Hermione in awe. 'Harry, why didn't you ever tell me you had this much money?'

Harry turned slowly to his girlfriend. 'I only knew about this one,' he answered.

Hermione returned her gaze to the vault for a moment, looking as though she was making a decision.

'Come on, let's go get some ice cream,' Harry finally stated, having processed the information.

Hermione was picking at her chocolate coated vanilla ice cream, and Harry saw a pensive look on her face.

'Knut for your thoughts?' asked Harry playfully.

'How do you know I will love you for you and not your money?' she blurted out, looked as though she regretted it nearly as soon as it was out in the open.

'I know,' Harry replied knowingly. 'You loved me before I showed you my vault, and you loved me even when I set other people's lives at stake. I know you are not the kind of person to go about like that. You are a moral person, and the very fact that you are asking yourself those questions shows that you have qualms about being a "gold-digger" something you are not. And deep down, you know this too, but you are too insecure to face the fact that I don't care about anything but you. I'd donate all my money away if it would make you happy, I already decided on sacrificing everything in the world to keep you in my life. I love you no matter what.

'I'd even marry you this instant if you wanted, but I know you don't, because you need time to prepare, and because you know as well as I do, that our chances of a lasting marriage would be much higher if we waited until we were closer or past the age of twenty-five,' Harry was by now holding Hermione's free hand tightly. 'Does that answer your question?'

Hermione started crying and before Harry knew it, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and was crying into his shirt. Several of the female patrons of Florean Fortesque's Ice-Cream Parlour were also blubbering or dabbing away tears from the overheard conversation, and smiling encouragingly at Harry. It only took Harry a moment to realise that this time tomorrow, this story would be in every wizarding tabloid, magazine and paper, and he really didn't care. This was his life to live, and he didn't want to ruin the tender moment by starting to yell at and threaten everyone not to tell anyone what they heard.

Instead, he focussed on rubbing his girlfriend's back, and on not becoming too aroused, or it might start something he couldn't finish.

He suddenly noticed something about the book he had been given. The bottom part of the spine was loose. With his free hand, he pulled on it, and a hidden drawer was shown, though he didn't explore the contents, as it might not be suitable for public view.

Hermione finished her crying after a while, and dabbed at her eyes with a paper towel she got from her handbag.

'I'm sorry for blubbering so,' Hermione sniffed and returned her attention to the mush that used to be ice cream. 'Oh, I ruined my ice cream …'

'Hermione, what are you?' asked Harry suggestively.

'A witch,' Hermione groaned. 'A freezing charm should return the ice cream to frozen state again, that was your point, right?'

'Exactly,' Harry agreed, 'And when you finish all of your ice cream, like the good little girl you are, we will stop by the bookshop.'

Hermione rolled her eyes at being talked to like a small girl, but there was a small twinkle of excitement in her eyes as she tucked in.

It took nearly a quarter of an hour for Hermione to finish the bowl of ice cream.

Harry made good on his promise and took Hermione to Flourish and Blotts. Once inside, Hermione let go of Harry and ran around to categorically go through the books she would like so she could find it when she had the money. In her excitement, she had forgotten that she had been worried about Harry suspecting her to be a gold-digger, and this just proved that she was not one, as a gold-digger would be pleading Harry to buy things for her.

It was a good thing for Harry that he had written a list of books before he came, or he'd have spent time looking through the thousands of books that existed in this shop. Harry flagged down a man that was placing away books, and handed him the list, stating that money was no object.

While the man started getting excited and ran around the shop trying to find the books on Harry's list, Hermione had narrowed her choices down from twenty to two books, which she wrote the names of so she would remember.

The shopkeeper finished finding Harry's books, and apologised that they were out of some of them, but for a fee of three galleons extra, they could be shipped to him when they arrived.

When Hermione wasn't looking, Harry acquired one of the books on Hermione's list. He would either save it for a special occasion, or just give it to her as a kind gesture. He hoped she wouldn't take it the wrong way. Then again, she knew him very well … well enough to know he was not trying to lord over her or gloat at him having money. She was also likely to refuse the gift on the grounds of not having earned it.

Gathering his resolve, Harry packed his own books, and slipped the remaining book into Hermione's hands, pressing it to her and keeping her hands shut around the spine.

'I thought you might like this,' he whispered.

Hermione looked at what he had pressed into her grasp, and looked up to protest.

'You will keep it, Hermione,' Harry cut her off, 'I will not accept it back, and I felt like giving you something for putting up with me through my … condition.'

'I didn't do that for presents, Harry,' Hermione said, and looked slightly hurt that he would think that about her.

'I know you didn't,' Harry agreed. 'But I felt like getting you something. Maybe next time it'll be something more romantic.'

* * *

Harry eventually took a look in the book he had been given at the meeting with the group he had named the Council, and discovered many new things, things that he could really use.

The Magical Assassination Industry had presented him with sketches of weapons and equipment, and how he could make them in their simpler forms. Most weapons were based on Muggle weaponry, from clubs to rifles, all magically enhanced or changed.

The Vampires included a few wandless acts of magic they were able to use, and with any luck, Harry would be able to do them too.

The Veela enclosed a few masking spells and their little fireball trick.

The Werebeasts wrote about their tribal magic, their combat, and their partial and selective transformation, and a listing of the various types of werebeasts that had been registered with them.

The Merpeople had left behind a special spell that would enable Harry to learn the languages he heard or read, or even remembered words and sounds from. It wouldn't work instantly, nor would it take forever.

The Elves left him some healing spells and potions that were easy to make with Muggle supplies.

The Freelance Unspeakable Branch left him with a few shielding charms and some curses, as well as instructions on how he could get in direct contact with the Head of Law Enforcement Department, should there be any trouble he needed to alert them of.

Lord Azkaban wrote down some instructions on summoning beasts like dementors, but in varying form according to the heart of the summoner. A few wards to secure against dementors were also included.

The Fairies wrote down, in writing so tiny that Harry had to enlarge the writing by thirty times to be able to read it, what their task in nature was, how they did it, and how to create Fairies for his services.

Harry opened the drawer from the spine of the book and found several interesting things, and a note.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_We all brought small tokens from our people, tokens that will show our friendship, not alliance. You, Mr Potter, are considered friend to all of our people because of what we have heard. You are a great wizard, possibly not as strong as you can be, even if your kind thinks you to be mad or dark, to make friends with creatures rather than shunning them._

_When we announced that we would send a delegation to you, every one of our kinds were enthusiastic and eager to contribute in your coming victory against the Dark Lord._

_If you need help, do not hesitate to call for us._

_Friendly regards;_

_Lord Azkaban, Fenris, Jenkins, Bell, Pinku, Nanya, Nymph and the Merpeople Emissary_

From the Magical Assassination Industry was a few blocks of base metals, crystals and glass for weapons and equipment. A magical photograph of a very nude Pinku was included. The woman in the photo showed him exactly where she hid some of her equipment, and it was nearly enough to make Harry burst into fire from the heat of his blush.

From the Vampires Harry got a ritual knife that they used for some of their blood magic. Enclosed was another wizarding photograph, of Nanya, not all that unlike Pinku, but this image kept cutting shallow strips into her own skin and licked them sensually.

Ingredients for an attraction potion were left in from the Veela, and Belle looked very alluring as she posed provocatively for the camera.

From the Werebeasts, Harry was given a set of metal claws to pull onto his fingers like a gauntlet. Fenris wrote a quick note that apologised for the photographs. Harry thought for a moment he meant the three photographs he had so far seen, but when he found a box of photographs of various women in the buff, and shifting between human and hybrid form while posing daringly. There were hundreds of them, each as provocative and enticing as the last.

Harry was certain that Hermione would kill him if she ever got wind of this, and he felt tempted to throw all the photographs away, which would be the right thing to do … but his teenage hormones convinced him to keep them, and hide them from view, even his own.

Lord Azkaban had left behind a small staff with a decorative head shaped like a talisman of a pentacle, which was essential in the process of summoning creatures to this world. He apologised for the lack of photographs, but he had assumed that any images of nude dementors, be they female or male, would not act as an erotic stimulant.

The Merpeople left Harry with a necklace that would make him accepted by any underwater city in the world, as long as it was worn.

The Freelance Unspeakable Branch left two patches of tape that were to be placed behind the ear and under the jaw, allowing to receive and send conversations when one wished. This tape would not shine in light, and would not be distinguishable from skin unless it is felt physically. Only when the wearer is touching the tape behind the ear does it activate the nearest set.

The Fairies had left a bottle, to them it must have been a whole vat, of nectar, filled with everything the body needed, a very tasty drink, and the bottle was made to be inexhaustible.

Harry made sure to send thank you notes to the groups, stating his gratefulness at their tokens and friendships, wisely refraining from mentioning the photographs. Hedwig was just happy to have something to do this summer, as Harry didn't need to send as many letters with him going to Hermione every evening, and was always quick about delivering, making Harry suspect that the Council was close by, or had representatives stand guard over him.

Aunt Marge was still suspicious about Harry, and made it a point to give him snap inspections at random times.

Harry made use of the tokens the Council had given him, and managed to fashion a semi-automatic handgun out of the metals available to him. The clip had already been supplied, with bullets that never ran out but needed a ten second pause every twelve shots. To be allowed to carry this gun, Harry joined a Marksman Club, which automatically gave him the necessary licenses needed in this restricted country to own weapon and use it on a police or military shooting range, upon passing a safety and maintenance test. Of course, the Magical Assassination Industry had helped him get the license.

There was one thing Harry did alter on the handgun. He made his own clip, which he filled with slates of metal with runes of magical power carved into them, and with a bullet like crystal fitted in on the top. This was to direct the magical energies that would be stored. The crystal had the formulae for the reductor curse etched into it, meaning that every time the trigger was successfully pulled, a reductor curse would be shot. Twelve shots in one clip, one hour to reload the energies. He sent this design to the Magical Assassination Industry under the conditions that they only use them in the chase for Dark Wizarding Criminals.

Gringotts sent Harry a letter not more than a week after he visited them.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_As per your request, your name and mark has been copyrighted, and those shops – apart from the mentioned exception – and industries that has made products, advertisements or anything else with those copyrighted materials have been contacted, warned and has agreed to a settlement of fifty per cent of their revenue – thus far – on aforementioned articles, and no further production without written permission._

_From now on, you will receive a ten per cent royalty on made articles and future articles. A special vault has been set aside for this purpose, but your key will still have access to this vault._

_Your business is greatly appreciated, and we hope that your relationship with our Diagon Alley Branch will be a prosperous one._

_Kind Regards;_

_Director; Spearhead_

Harry was satisfied with this news, and took note of the amount of money that had appeared in his new vault.

* * *

Among the pages that the Lord of Azkaban had contributed, was a listing of shadow creatures that could be summoned, and one struck Harry's interest.

_The Shadow Panther;_

_This fierce beast is a cousin to the Nundu, although a bit away on the evolutionary chain._

_Many believe this creature to be even more dangerous than the Nundu, which is considered the most dangerous known beast in existence as it requires over one hundred fully trained wizards to subdue and can kill entire villages with its breath._

_The reason for this belief; is that this creature can command shadows to do its bidding, and move through shadows like doorways, travelling immeasurable distances instantly with minimal energy._

_Being related, however distantly, to the Nundu, the Shadow Panther is very big, standing six feet high at the shoulders._

The reason for his interest in this creature; was of course that he had turned into one as his Animagus form. After some correspondence with the Lord of Azkaban, Harry found that for him to have that form, he must have been in contact with one at some time in his life before his transformation took place, and have it offer him its blessing, something very difficult to accomplish with summoned shadow beasts as they had a mind of their own and tended to kill their summoners for disrupting their lives.

But these things aside, Harry kept up his training. Even Dudley thought thrice about starting to taunt Harry when he witnessed Harry do bench presses with the front end of their new company car. Harry had no idea of how he managed to get so strong so fast and without it affecting his mobility at all, but wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The only thing that bothered him as he approached his birthday, was the slight burning sensation in his chest.

Three hours and five minutes left until Harry turned seventeen. He could hardly wait, as Hermione had promised an entire day with him, and no chaperone. If only that burning in his chest would lessen.

Three hours and four minutes. Harry gritted his teeth as the burning increased. Why was he getting sick? And on his birthday of all days …

Three hours and three minutes. Something snapped, he was certain of it. Something had snapped inside him and the burning had increased ten fold, making him clutch his chest in pain. He was too young to have an acute angina, wasn't he? He kept in top shape all year … maybe it was something he ate?

Three hours and two minutes. Several other snapping sensations made themselves known all over his body and the burning spread. What had he ever done to deserve this pain? It was nearly as bad as a Cruciatus curse.

Three hours and one minute. The pain was now so intense, he didn't care if he screamed, but his blood was pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear anything else.

Three hours. Harry's world exploded, and all he heard before his world went black, was an anxiously yelled; 'HARRY!'

* * *

Sounds.

Harry couldn't identify them yet, but they were there.

Comforting sounds.

There was a comforting presence at his side, he could feel it.

A delicate hand ran across his forehead, brushing away his bangs, and coming to rest on his cheek.

Another hand, the twin of the first one, was holding on to his own.

His head was resting on something comfortable, soft yet firm, warm and radiating concern for him.

'Oh, Harry,' a sweet voice whispered. 'Please wake up soon.'

Wake up? When did he go to sleep? How long had he been asleep for this lovely and caring person to worry so?

'I don't know how much longer I can stand watching you so … lifeless …' sighed the sweet voice.

Harry wanted to comfort the owner of the voice, make sure she'd never suffer any harm.

'Harry?' the voice was slightly hopeful.

Harry stirred, he could move!

'Harry!'

A pair of strong and gentle arms wrapped themselves around his chest, and the owner of the voice sobbed into his shoulder.

Weakly, Harry managed to inch his arms around the form he well recognised as Hermione. The sobs of the young woman increased as he let his arms rest on her, but not letting go of them enough for them to fall away.

'Hr … mne,' he managed to croak. 'Wtr, pls.'

'Don't try to speak,' Hermione cautioned and got halfway up. 'You are not strong enough yet.'

'Watr,' Harry croaked despite his love's orders.

'Oh! Of course!' she fretted and broke his grip on her, leaving his side if only for a few moments. The running of water was heard after a muttered spell. She was then back in Harry's line of vision with a glass of water, conveniently capped and equipped with a flexible straw. 'Here you go, take small sips or it'll go down the wrong way.'

Harry was grateful for the liquid and drank as greedily as his throat permitted. There were a few close calls, but nothing went down the wrong way, and Harry dropped back onto his bed. Hermione sat at the side of his bed, and looked upon him with concern and admiration. 'Wh-'

'Don't speak, Harry,' Hermione warned and held one of her delicate hands over his mouth. 'Whatever happened to you took a lot of energy, save it for later. Now, while you heal, I will stay with you, no matter what your family may think on the matter.'

This was the commanding bushy haired girl Harry fell in love with, not taking no for an answer and bullying others into doing what they were supposed to be doing anyway.

'I'll just be gone for one minute to gather my things and inform my parents,' she hurriedly stated and got up. 'In the meantime, do not move or I will be very angry with you when I find out.'

Without another word, she vanished without a sound.

Harry lay there, thinking of what had happened. His body felt as if he had been running and lifting things for days on end, but there was something different that he couldn't quite put his finger on at the moment. It was tickling the back of his mind, and his skin felt partially numb. He decided to save up energy faster, and started clearing his mind of unnecessary thoughts that cluttered it if he did not organise it every day. He had experienced that he was much faster rested if he meditated like this, something he learned while studying late and had to meditate instead of sleep. It hadn't happened too often, but he could get eight hours of sleep in two hours of meditation. Very useful for studying for tests and resting after a hard training bout.

'Good evening, Harry.'

The pleasant voice of his headmaster brought Harry from his trance to look at the old man, alert and ready.

'You gave the ministry quite a workload yesterday,' the old man chuckled as he sat on Harry's chair. 'Such a blow-out of power has not been recorded in ages, and never in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood. Cornelius had to be persuaded from not placing you in Azkaban for use of magic in front of Muggles, even if none were present at the time of the release. Although the effects can be seen for several kilometres … everything seems to have flourished over night and things that had been broken or sick got better … one could nearly call it a miracle …'

The aged headmaster looked down at his pupil.

'The family curse struck, am I correct?' Harry simply stared confusedly at him. 'That is right, you wouldn't know …' Harry glared at the old man, had he not remembered how he reacted to information that was withheld from him. 'Calm yourself, Harry, I had not withheld this from you on purpose … it was just assumed that you had read of it somewhere. It all started with the first of your line named Potter, about the same time Hogwarts was founded. Young Lazarus managed to anger a Mage, who in turn cursed his line … what the curse was, only the Potters know … and one other. Which brings me to the second news …

'I do not know how to tell this news … as it is quite thrilling even if it is devastating,' Harry could see the man was stalling for time and wouldn't have any of it, glaring angrily at him to bring the message across. 'Very well,' Dumbledore sighed. 'Yesterday afternoon, one of the captured Death Eaters in the Ministry holding cells tried to re-enact the Count of Montechristo by tunnelling his way out before his trial and managed to get through the floor … before dropping eight feet onto a foot of dust.

'He had discovered a chamber that had been forgotten by even the best historian of the Ministry, and it was filled with stone statues of humans in varying poses. And at the end of the room was a portal with a white veil covering it, I believe you remember its corresponding gateway in the Department of Mysteries?'

Harry nodded slowly, not sure if he liked where this was going.

'The gateway with the black veil covering it was used as a punishment in old times. The prisoners would be thrown inside, and land in the realm of death. On the other side, the prisoners would be judged by the pureness of their souls, and whether they were guilty of their crime. If they were guilty or had as black a soul as they come, the prisoners would be kept. If they were innocent, the prisoners would be thrown out of the white veil, petrified.'

Harry's intestines dropped heavily as he saw where this was going.

'Sirius was among those recovered in the chamber,' Dumbledore confirmed. 'He has been revived with a Mandrake Draught, and has been officially recognised as alive. He got his new wand from Ollivanders not an hour after he woke. And he is the one who knows more about the Potter family curse than anyone else, having lived with them for a while. He is very eager to see you again.'

'No,' Harry croaked.

'I know it is difficult to accept that he is back …'

'No,' Harry repeated and lay back down, and like a child, pulled his blankets over his head to block out the world.

'Harry, I'm ba – professor?' Harry could hear Hermione's voice go from reassuring to surprised. There was a slight pause. 'What have you done, professor?' the tone sounded chilly enough for Harry to curl into a ball under his blankets. 'It's all right, Harry,' he heard her whisper and felt his bed depress as she sat on it, and started rubbing what she correctly knew to be his back, 'the professor is just leaving … aren't you?'

Harry was certain that his window would frost at the cool tone Hermione was using on the headmaster, and shivered under her touch.

'Yes, well, Harry and I had just finished our talk anyway,' stated Dumbledore, mirth was evident in his tone, as though Hermione's frosty voice wasn't bothering him the least. 'Have a nice holiday, and we will see each other before September first.'

A soft pop announced the Disapparation of their headmaster.

'You can come out now,' coaxed Hermione softly.

Harry slowly drew the blankets away to verify that Dumbledore indeed was gone before quickly wrapping his arms around Hermione. He didn't cry, he didn't know if he had any more tears left to cry, but the presence was comforting in this moment of distress, even if she didn't know what had caused this state.

'Do you feel like telling me what happened?'

Harry waited for a moment, soaking up as much comfort as he could before telling her in a raspy voice about the news that Dumbledore had brought.

'Oh, Harry,' breathed Hermione and grabbed him in a fiercer hug than he had given her. 'I don't know whether to be happy or sad at this news,' she confessed. 'And it's ironic that he appeared after you became a legal adult according to our laws … we need to find out more about your family curse, though … and Dumbledore said Sirius was the best source of that information?'

'Yes,' nodded Harry and breathed in her scent. 'Sirius lived with my dad and his parents around the time he turned seventeen, which is the time the curse is triggered … if I understood Dumbledore's hints.'

'But you nearly exploded, Harry! And it was three hours left until midnight!'

Harry pondered for a moment, 'Could the Time-turner have something to do with it?'

Hermione banged the heel of her hand against her forehead and berated herself for not remembering that they had travelled three hours back in time to save Sirius. 'But wouldn't that mean that I'm nearly eighteen?' she pondered aloud.

'Probably more,' Harry put in seriously before grinning wickedly, 'as long as we are clear on who was born first here. And that would be me.'

He earned a playful bop on the head for this comment. 'Behave and lie down, I didn't say you were well enough to be playing so much.'

The door to Harry's room shook dangerously.

'Boy!' uncle Vernon's voice boomed, penetrating the door. 'Is there anyone in there with you?'

'Just my girlfriend,' Harry answered calmly and hurried with placing his fingers in his ears. Hermione quickly followed his movement.

'WHAT!' uncle Vernon's voice seemed to have tripled in volume, and Harry could nearly see the shade of red on the fat man's face through the door. The man went on sputtering and yelling at them through the door while hammering on it to get it open, but was unsuccessful in his effort. Aunt Marge soon joined him in his yelling as she deducted from the noise what had been going on. Aunt Petunia's shrill voice yelled at the other two for making a scene that the whole street would be able to hear. Dudley whinged about having run out of pocket money; adding to the din. It took all of one minute before Hermione thought to put up a silencing charm to block out the noise.

'That was cruel, Harry,' she chastised him.

'I felt like stirring the waters a little,' stated Harry. 'This is one of the few times I have exorcised that side of me, and with magic to back me up, I don't think this summer is going to be so bad, or what's left of it.'

'At least you'll have me here from now on,' she added.

Harry smiled at the thought and nodded slowly. Neither heard the Dursleys calm down to muttering dark and hollow threats at the locked and closed door.


	6. Chapter 6

After a day or two of rest, Hermione declared Harry fit enough to leave the bed and resume his regular schedule. Her accommodations were easily taken care of by expanding the room somewhat and adding a cot for her to sleep on. Harry jested about his bed probably being less comfortable than a cot, which was the reason he had not offered her to take his bed. They had agreed that they not sleep in the same bed yet, as they were not yet prepared for the consequences of them losing control of their hormones.

Dudley had been envious, and was even caught trying to spy on them a couple of times. Uncle Vernon drew the line at feeding her, and said nothing else on the matter. Aunt Marge barged in any time the door allowed it to assure herself that there weren't any more of Harry's bad genes being spread. Aunt Petunia was very tight lipped about this, but Harry detected a miniscule glint of pride in her eyes, pride that one of the children she had raised – in a manner of speakin – would manage to function properly despite her poor job at preparing him for it.

Harry and Hermione both kept up their training and studying, including the subjects the Council had given. They ran for a while in the morning and played tag after. They started training by improvising with the equipment they did not have available, and sparred with each other to keep their skills intact.

It was really unnerving for the neighbours of the Dursleys to look out their window in the morning to see the company car being lifted up and down by two persons, one at each end, as though it was a toddler they were playing airplane with. Dudley's gang had thought this to be a trick of some sort – rubber car, or a hidden jack somewhere – and ruined their backs when they attempted to prove their theories. They had to spend about a week in traction before they were allowed out of the hospital. The parents of Dudley's gang tried to blame Harry for this, until both Harry and Hermione, as well as some of the smaller neighbourhood children that had gathered to watch, that the boys had been idiots enough to attempt lifting a car without training or proper leverage. When faced with that kind of knowledge, which their children had omitted when telling them what happened to put them in the hospital, they could not really blame Harry for anything other than not advising them well enough against it.

A week after Dumbledore's visit, an owl arrived with their supply lists.

Tumbling out of the thick envelopes fell small pins, one for both of them. A pin reading Head Boy fell into Harry's lap with a rulebook. A pin reading Head Girl landed in Hermione's lap with another rulebook. Harry was about to send the pin back when Hermione pointed out that this was one thing Dumbledore couldn't manipulate, that it was something decided by all the teachers, based on skill and marks. The added fringe benefit; was that the Head Boy and Head Girl had their own dormitories in the top of their own houses with their own tiny common room, providing more privacy for their alone time.

They then started to memorise the rules and announcements.

Harry was surprised to find that they would be hosting a few schools for a major event this year, with Voldemort on the loose. There was no description on what this event was, but it was supposed to be a grand affair.

* * *

About one week remained of the summer holidays when the doorbell rang, and like last year, Moody, Lupin and Tonks were at the door, but this year they were not in disguise.

'Weren't you with the police last year?' asked a slightly sloshed aunt Marge who had staggered out of the living room at the sound of the bell. Lupin looked better than he had last year, probably from the event-that-shall-not-be-mentioned-around-Harry, but cringed at the recognition.

'Do you want to have the honours, or shall I?' sang Tonks merrily as she bobbed on her feet, looking outrageous in her neon purple hair and skin tight clothes on a very well sculpted body. Dudley was snapped from his drooling by his mother who clearly realised that this woman was not natural. This was proven when she clearly enlarged her bosom and hips and winked at Harry. 'Please, Moody, let me!'

Hermione gripped Harry's arm and started tugging on it. 'While you decide, Harry and I will be packing.'

As Harry and Hermione went upstairs, and tried to coax their pets into their various carrying devices, they heard the noise of a quarrel, followed by the _Obliviate_ they had been waiting for. It sounded like Lupin finally cast the spell to keep Moody and Tonks from driving him bonkers.

Packing was easy, as they needed only use magic to get it all in and clear up any signs of magic performed on the room.

Dobby and Winky were told to go on to Hogwarts and wait for them there, as they weren't certain that the two house-elves knew the location of the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters, and couldn't reveal it if they tried.

'Awfully trusting, aren't you?' growled Moody as Harry and Hermione came down the stairs. 'How do you know we aren't Death Eaters?'

Harry smirked.

'Secret of the trade,' he stated enigmatically. 'Wouldn't do for anyone to accidentally slip up and reveal the Ace up my sleeve, would it?'

'Couldn't have said it better myself,' barked Moody in a laugh. 'A secret is only a secret until more than one knows it.'

'With that in mind, we need to make sure you are who you say you are,' reasoned Lupin.

Harry took a seat on the stairs and waited for the werewolf to start. Hermione sat on her trunk at the bottom of the stairs.

'What is your greatest fear?' the former professor asked.

'Fear,' answered Harry quickly. 'Although it should really be me that asks this from you.'

'Where did I suggest you got the Marauders Map when professor Snape got hold of it?'

'Zonko's,' answered Harry.

'That should do it,' confirmed Lupin. 'Only the three of us – professor Snape, Harry and I – knew about that one, not counting Ron who came bursting into the room yelling the same thing.'

'Then let's not stand around and mope like this,' declared Harry and stood, 'in the immortal words of Shakespeare; "Lead on McDuff"!'

'What mode of travel are we using this time?' asked Hermione, having heard from Harry about the various ways he had left the Dursleys. 'Apparation? Portkey? Ministry Car? The Knight Bus?'

'Just Apparation, Granger,' growled Moody. 'You two having your license makes this job a lot easier. And it acts as a second screening, because there is no possible way to get through the wards unless you have been told the location.'

Harry and Hermione merely nodded and got away from the stairs.

'Just one moment,' Harry added to his guard, and turned to his only remaining family. 'This will be the last time we speak, if we have any say in the matter,' he stated seriously to his aunt. 'Move away from here as soon as possible, because once I leave this house, you may become targets in the wizarding war. When this war is over, I'll try to contact you to let you know … if I'm still alive.'

Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to protest the command to pack up their things and move away, but Harry turned on him.

'Moving away will be in your lives' best interest, uncle,' he stated in a tone that allowed no protests, and stressed the title of the man. 'If you stay, you are more likely to get killed for being related to me, as I am certain Voldemort knows where I live, even if he is unable to do anything to tamper with the wards. Once those wards are down, he will come and kill anything that moves down this street, and burn down anything that doesn't, and the only thing your surviving neighbours will think, is that you angered some terrorist faction and got blown up. Your names will forever be marked as treacherous, and it wouldn't surprise me if your name would become idiomatic for traitorous fools. You will move away, because I will not allow more deaths that I could have prevented to happen.'

Towards the end of his speech, Harry was glowing with power, and Vernon was cowering, agreeing fully with the command.

'And you had better move fast,' Harry added as he turned away. 'Let's go.'

Without as much as a whisper in the air, Harry and his trunk vanished from number four Privet Drive. With a giant cracking sound, the other four magical persons follow him with what they had brought.

* * *

The moment Harry arrived at number Twelve Grimmauld Place, no one noticed, as they ran around in a panic for some reason. Not until Hermione, Lupin, Tonks and Moody arrived in a loud crack did anyone look their way.

'What's going on?' asked Harry.

'It's horrible, just horrible!' cried Mrs Weasley and tried to break Harry's ribs in a maternal hug. 'They found him hanging on the school gates!'

'Who?' asked Harry, feeling a tingle of dread run down his spine.

'Severus,' sobbed the elderly woman.

'Not more than one hour ago, Severus was found pinned to the gates with pointed sticks, blood staining the ground and with cuts and bruises covering every bit of him, and his wand shoved through his brain. The word "Traitor" was etched into his forehead with a magical knife, preventing anyone from sealing the wound,' the grave voice of the headmaster continued as he emerged from the staircase. 'We fear that Voldemort's rest has been concluded and is currently planning something to be ridding himself of his unfaithful servants. But due to the mentioned situation, we have no way of knowing.'

Harry automatically reached for his scar.

'Don't you dare!' exclaimed Hermione, as though reading his intentions. 'You will not try and reach for Voldemort to find out!'

The intensity of Hermione's emotions as she commanded Harry was something he could not resist, and he felt slightly ashamed for even starting to think about the possibility she had denied him.

'OK, I won't,' he assured her. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put my things away.'

'If you want, Sirius -'

Dumbledore ended his suggestion when he saw Harry halt in the stairs and a still life caught fire.

'No, headmaster,' replied Harry with a chilled voice.

Wordlessly, Harry strode up to his room, once more looking like an animal on the prowl.

* * *

Most of the day passed before Mrs Weasley nearly physically dragged Harry down to the kitchens to eat, forcing the confrontation between Harry and Sirius.

The moment Harry, Hermione and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen, all conversation stopped, and Harry was given a clear view of his godfather. Only Hermione's gentle but insistent grip prevented him from exploding at the man, or leave before he exploded at anything and everything, and she guided him to the seat on the other end of the table from the ex-convict. It wouldn't do for Harry to transform his godfather into the state of life he had been assumed for over a year, so it was in Sirius' good health and Harry's state of mind that he was placed as far away as possible while remaining in the room.

Dinner was a tense affair, as Harry pointedly avoided looking up from his plate unless it was to speak with Hermione about their studies.

The only ones not affected by the tense air, were Fred and George. They were playing with their food, quite literary, having animated the grilled carcass of a chicken to dance about the table with a miniature straw hat and bamboo cane. Their mother tried to get them to end it, but the first chicken was joined by others instead, changing form to a Riverdance, with music coming from nowhere. It was a welcome relief from the stress. Just as the chickens were about to go into their next act, which looked like a ballet, Mrs Weasley had had enough and lifted the spell, proceeding with chastising her sons for playing with their food, no matter how entertaining it was.

'You have grown.'

Harry nodded without looking up, he was not going to look at his godfather, or he was liable to strangle the man for all the pain they all had gone through because of his supposed death. Hermione saw that Harry wasn't about to talk, and started speaking for him.

'Yes, he has, it was needed – he felt – to be in top physical condition so he would be one up on the Death Eaters he is certain to encounter. He also discovered that several games and such were good training for dodging curses and increase grips and so on, and started teaching this to the Defence Association,' Harry wasn't sure whether he should blush at the attention he was getting, or keep silent and avoid speaking all together. He settled on the last, and used as much of his Occlumency training as possible to keep all the warring emotions under his thumb. 'Not only that, but the DA won in a competition against the Duelling Club which was under the direction of professors Flitwick and Snape.

'Harry's students all got very good marks on their OWLs, NEWTs and end of year exams, and are probably more loyal to him than most subjects used to be to their king, if he were to run for Minister for Magic one day, he'd be sure to win from the results he has gotten.'

Ginny and Ron confirmed Hermione's story, and added a few of their own opinions, although Ron's weren't all that flattering.

'I think that all that training with the DA tired us out for the Quidditch matches,' he commented as he reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. 'Gryffindor lost the Cup this year, and barely won by anything at all when we did. Not that the muscles we gain didn't draw the eyes of several girls, but we never had any time to do anything but train, eat, school, train, eat, homework and training before bed.'

His sister kindly shut him up with a mild rap to his head.

'I think the reason we did so badly at Quidditch was that _some_ players – who shall remain nameless – procrastinated with their homework until the last minute and had to stay up half the night instead of sleeping before the matches,' she retorted. 'Another reason could be that we haven't had a good team put together since we won the Cup three years ago. None of us could measure up to the team we had then, not without constant training, which Harry nearly provides us with through the DA.'

There was a moment of silence where Ron seemed to be swallowing retorts to his sister at the warning glares his mother gave him.

'So, I hear you've become an Animagus, Harry …' Sirius attempted. He seemed to understand why Harry was angry, and was doing his best to try and slowly mend the burnt bridges.

'My, yes,' commented professor McGonagall, Harry was surprised to find her there as he had not seen her on his way in, granted he hardly saw anyone as he entered. 'A very powerful large panther,' she continued, 'scared half the school by his looks alone as he got stuck halfway into his initial and instinctive transformation, lasted for the rest of the year … of course, Mr Potter is registered legally, unlike some others …'

'Well, even Harry can't be perfect …' was the exaggerated resigned sigh Sirius replied with. This caused a small chuckle to run down the table.

Harry merely ate his food, and did his best to keep any emotion from emerging from behind the fortress he had erected around them.

Conversations went about the table for a while longer, and Harry slowly ate his dinner, leaving as soon as he was done.

Hermione followed him, taking care to express her gratitude for the meal and apologise for their departure. Once the two were alone, she rapped Harry over his head and wrapped her arms about him, expressing her feelings on his behaviour.

* * *

The remaining week passed in relative quiet, aside from the reports of Death Eaters being found dead and physically tortured all over the world. It seemed that Voldemort took his job of weeding out the undesirable elements in his group very seriously. So far over a score had been accounted for, all killed in the same brutal manner that Severus Snape had been, and all found with their wand shoved through their brain in some manner, and their left arm exposed, letting the world see the Dark Mark they bore.

Harry and Hermione trained as seriously as they could, and if they wanted privacy, they would either lock themselves in with Buckbeak, or they would place enough locking and privacy spells around the room they were in to keep the Order occupied for days just to get through them.

As far as Harry and Sirius were concerned, they had slowly started speaking to each other again, and Harry could remain courteous for one entire conversation before he had to leave the room in fear of exploding.

Sirius had finally revealed to Harry what the family curse was.

It all started with the first Potter. He had been mighty proud at creating a name for himself as the best clay worker in Britain, hence his name, and all was well. That is, until a Mage arrived and complained about a bowl that Potter had made. It turned out that the Mage had switched bowls with a different manufacturer and tried to get his money back. Potter had recognised the situation from tales he had heard from others in his profession, and checked the bowl for his magical insignia, not finding it. The Mage had been so thoroughly insulted at the nerve of this wand-waver that he cast a curse upon his family. One would normally assume that such a curse would be a bad thing, but that was not so, as the Mage made a mistake in pronunciation, and instead of robbing the man's descendants of all their magic, he gave them his. This also would be strange, but the catch was, the magical energy started manifesting itself from the moment the children were born, and would cause them to catch fire and die. But Potter was no fool, and an accomplished wizard, and managed to create a block for power which was put in place on each child of the Potter line not a day after they were born. This block, or blocks if the children had been naturally powerful, would disintegrate on the day they became of age, and their bodies could handle the surge of magic without killing them. The Mage, realising his error too late, was left without anything, and was forgotten by history in general.

Sirius had been present when James had his blocks broken, and when James installed as many as seventeen blocks on his son while Lily was asleep with exhaustion from the difficult delivery.

This explained to Harry why he had felt such an abundance of magic when he had come to consciousness after a few days in a coma caused by shock. He had thought it just an oddity, but now it made sense. His magical power was the reason for the burning feeling in his chest, as the blocks were "burnt" away. But how had Hermione known? She had been on the other side of London at the time his blocks went down, and shouldn't have felt anything, even if half of Surrey had suddenly gotten healed, mended and spiffed up.

This year, like the last, Ron ended up running all over the house in order to find his things, and get them packed, while a piece of toast hung from his teeth and his socks were slipping from his feet.

Ginny had been prepared this year, unlike last year, and joined Harry and Hermione at the bottom of the stairs to watch her brother jump around while trying to grab his annoying owl, eat and return his socks to his feet where they belonged instead of on the floor in heaps. Neither Crookshanks nor Hedwig had enjoyed being unceremoniously stuffed into their respective cage and carrier the night before, and made this known by making some noise.

The Order's guards weren't as patient with Ron as they had been in the past, and had to yell at him to get him to hurry up.

It was a slightly blushing Ron that trotted down the streets with his family and friends, his owl hooting madly in its cage, and Hedwig hooted reproachfully from her cage.

The group arrived at King's Cross ten minutes to eleven, and had to hurry with getting through the barrier.

'Well, we have to attend the Prefect meeting,' Ron started apologetic as he was about to enter the barrier, 'so why don't you get us a good compartment, Harry?'

With those words, Ron disappeared through the barrier, and was obscured by brick. Ginny smiled apologetically on behalf of her brother and followed not many seconds after. Harry realised that he had neglected to tell his friends of his good fortune in becoming the Head Boy, and knew he was going to receive a lot of flack about it once they found out. Hermione squeezed him reassuringly and leaned against the barrier, looking to all the world like a couple enjoying a moment alone before they had to catch a train, then they vanished through the brick, obscured by the strategically placed members of the Order.

On the other side of the barrier, students were flitting about, searching for wayward pets and chattering about their holidays, while one or two Aurors patrolled the edges of the crowd.

'Lead on,' Harry urged, not really knowing where he was supposed to go. He knew he was to run the Prefect meeting with Hermione, but that was it, he did not know where or how to do it. Hermione grabbed a firmer hold of Harry's hand and guided him through the throng of students, their trunks loaded onto the train before they entered the front compartment.

There was a fair sized crowd in the Prefect's Compartment, all chatting with the other prefects from their own house, or the house that was not rivalling their own, but all conversation ended as Harry stepped into the compartment, being led by Hermione.

'What are you doing here, Potter?' asked Malfoy irately, 'Granger, you know the rules, you can't bring your boyfriend in here even if he is the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived! You'll lose your badge for this.'

Ron was about to stand up and defend his friends when Harry flipped his shirt collar the right way, and revealed the Head Boy badge.

'I believe this gives me the right to be here, Malfoy,' replied Harry calmly.

The blonde Slytherin obviously had objections, but in light of the badge, he couldn't say a thing.

'Very well, let's everyone settle down so we can get to the issues at hand,' commanded Hermione.

The prefects all settled down in various seats and looked up at Harry and Hermione who took their seats behind a desk, like they were in a lax classroom. They covered the normal rules for the new prefects, what to do, what they should leave to professors, and when they were allowed to deduct points. Finally, they got to the issue that would be the most interesting one.

'This year, Hogwarts will host four other schools, one from each of the other continents, they will not attend classes with us, or share our living quarters,' declared Hermione, having covered most of the meeting herself. 'However, they will be free to roam the castle at the same times as all other students, and will eat at whichever table they desire. Mistreating them will have the same consequences as they would have if the guests were Hogwarts students. The reason why these schools will be present, is that some grand event will take place, spanning the whole year.

'As a direct result, the Quidditch Cup will not be held this year,' immediately there was uproar from those many supporters of the sport. 'Quiet!' commanded Hermione warningly. 'As you all may remember, last year two new events were held in hopes of starting a tradition, only one of them survived the popularity contest, namely the Combat Duel, which means that it will be arranged at the same time as last year, which is the very last day before we all leave for either the summer or forever … or for those who intend to seek employment there, shorter.' At this, Hermione paused, a lump in her throat as she thought of the fact that this year would be the last she would spend at Hogwarts. Harry patted her hand, understanding her sadness.

'In any case,' he continued for her, 'I think we are done for now, you will all receive your first passwords as you leave, make sure to memorise them before you leave the train, and change passwords as soon as possible without confusing the first years. You are dismissed.'

Hermione handed the sealed envelopes to the prefects as they got up, and sat back at the desk in wait of the inevitable explosion from Ron. They did not have to wait for long, as Ron came storming up to the desk and demanded to know why he wasn't told.

'In all the commotion about Sirius' return and Snape's departure, it slipped our minds,' explained Harry calmly. 'Surely you don't think that our being Heads is more important that Sirius returning from the dead and Snape joining them?'

This caused Ron to shut up, and look abashed.

'Let's go and find a compartment, I'm nearly certain that Neville and Luna are waiting for us.'

The four of them walked down the carts, making sure to look in on every compartment to look for their friends. Occasionally they would pass a prefect that was patrolling, but they didn't run into any trouble. Like normal, they had only gotten to the end of the train when they discovered the compartment containing their friends. The two brightened up at seeing their friends enter.

Harry cast a few silent and powerful vampiric and elven locking charms on the compartment door, knowing that something was bound to happen.

The group conversed about their summers and theorised how professor Snape would be replaced, and with whom.

They had not yet reached a conclusion about the replacement Potions Master when Malfoy and his cronies arrived outside their compartment and attempted to open it, only to find it locked.

For a full five minutes, the occupants of the compartment were entertained by the sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle trying to use every spell and trick they knew to open the door, until the old witch with the lunch trolley came by and started yelling at them for attempting to deface school property. They heard her holler after the Slytherin trio that she'd give word of this to the headmaster and see to it that they were properly punished.

'Those were very useful spells, Harry,' commented Luna, 'what kinds were they? I don't think there is a locking spell in Hogwarts that a seventh year Slytherin cannot counter.'

Harry studied the sixth year Ravenclaw for a moment before nodding.

'You're right, Luna,' he agreed, 'I have learned a few tricks that would never be taught to any Hogwarts student, let alone wizards in general. Nothing illegal, just questionable or different.' He added as he saw Ron and Ginny start to panic. 'Can't really tell you about what it is, because then we would have no surprises left.'

Hermione redirected the conversation while Harry opened the door and got some of every candy the lady with the trolley had.

* * *

The following hours, while they waited for the train to arrive at its destination, they conversed on the possibilities of the DA, and snacked on the candy Harry had bought.

When darkness started to fall, Hermione ushered the boys, or young men as they should rightfully be called, out of the compartment so the girls, or young women, could change into their school uniform. As usual, not long after, the roles were switched, and they all waited with subconsciously baited breaths for the train to pull into the station, and for the year to begin, the last year for sixty-six point six-six-six-six etc. per cent of the compartment's occupants.

Finally, the train slowed to a stop and the six of them got off, trying not to either trample or get trampled by the mob of students flowing out of the train and onto the platform.

Bobbing down the platform was the lantern that Hagrid normally used, but the voice – although deep and loud – was not his, unless the friendly giant had gone through some severe operations.

'Students, first year students, please follow moi! First years zis vay!'

As the form came properly within view, Harry saw that the large form of the headmistress of Beauxbatons in France was doing Hagrid's job of gathering the first years. Madame Olympe Maxime, one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, she travelled with Hagrid to the mountains somewhere in eastern Europe to find the giant colonies and try to make a treaty with them before Voldemort did, unsuccessfully. She was half-giant herself, but did not make a fuss about it. For a brief moment Harry wondered why this large woman was here of all places, but his musings were interrupted by Hermione and the others who wanted to get to the castle before the last Thestral-pulled carriages took off without them.

'You'll have to give me a ride if we miss it!' Hermione called as they briskly walked for the carriage. The other four had gone onboard one of the earlier carriages under the belief that Harry and Hermione were directly behind them, therefore there weren't any trace of them. Unfortunately, the last carriage was occupied, by Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Zabini, so any chances they had of getting on it was suddenly diminished to near impossible.

Hermione crossed her arms as she watched the carriage roll off, laughter rolling from it. She looked from the carriage to Harry with a mild glare that clearly stated that he was at fault for them missing the carriages.

'Get on, then,' sighed Harry and shifted form after checking for observers. The great feline form easily seated Hermione as she climbed onto his back and held onto his neck with her arms and to his waist with her legs. Harry couldn't resist the urge to purr at the feeling, but would not be distracted from his task, and crouched for a moment before leaping into a shadow, Hermione squeaking in fright with the expected impact into the hard wood of the tree Harry had chosen.

The squeak suddenly transferred from a tree at the end of the Hogsmeade station, to the shadows behind the doors of the Great Hall, where Harry transformed again in case someone's attention was drawn to them from the noise.

'I make good time, right?' asked Harry mischievously.

'Right,' agreed Hermione and tried to calm herself. 'Remind me not to ask for this unless it's an emergency, OK? I don't think I can handle this on a regular basis.'

Harry nodded and wrapped his arm about her as they walked around the door and into the Great Hall, which was only half filled.

No one were surprised to see them enter, and they got seated near their friends, Luna not having found any available seats at her own house table sat nearly on Ron's lap, which made the redheaded boy very nervous.

When the last Slytherins entered, they were surprised -the only ones mind you -to see Harry and Hermione sitting calmly near the head table of their house table, chatting with their friends about this and that. They clearly suspected something, but there was no evidence of anything other than Harry having an incredibly fast broom that transported them there.

The chatter rose in noise levels, and the doors of the Great Hall closed for the first years that would be waiting on the other side.

After some time, and several complaints from Ron about the wait for the banquet, the doors slammed open and professor McGonagall led a group of children in, all looking very nervous, and awed at the same time. The large form of Madame Maxime slunk along the wall towards the Head table, where a large seat had been reserved for her next to Hagrid. It was slightly sweet to see the two half-giants snuggle together and watch the goings on in the Great Hall, merry twinkles in their eyes.

Professor McGonagall also seemed to be a might happier about the world, despite the darkness that prowled through it at this time.

The stern professor walked up to the stool where the Sorting Hat was placed, and withdrew a list.

The hat shook for a moment, then opened a rift near the brim, and it began to sing.

_A thousand years and more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known;_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own House, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favourites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

'_Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_he whipped me off his head_

_the founders put some brains in me_

_so I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

Harry stared at the hat for a moment, hadn't that been the song in his fourth year?

He looked around and saw that he hadn't been the only one that remembered.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. 'Maybe he has run out of ideas, or has been too much disturbed to make one up …' she suggested.

Professor McGonagall gathered her wits and took out her scroll of names before calling out; 'When I read your names, step up and pull the hat over your head, then proceed to your designated House table.'

Harry ignored the sorting, only clapping his hands when he saw from the corner of his eye that his House mates did. He was busy watching the Head table. The only new face, apart from Madame Maxime, was that of Alastor Moody, or more commonly known as; Made-Eye. There was no doubt that this man was going to be in charge of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, so whom was to replace Snape? He doubted that Madame Maxime would take on that position, as she was not exactly small enough to fit through half the doors in this castle, and would feel cramped in the confined spaces of the dungeon.

One final applause went through the Great Hall, and Dumbledore stood as the last first year sat down.

'Welcome,' the old wizard greeted solemnly but with a twinkle of merriment about him. 'I will not delay the Start of Term Banquet much longer, as I see several of you are indeed very ravenous, so, dig in!'

With that, the headmaster clapped his hands, and food in huge quantities and exquisite quality appeared on each of the tables.

The students started their chattering again as they started eating the delicious food. Harry and his band of merry students was no exception, but they continued their discussions on the teacher situation. Harry exchanged a few words with Mark Evans, a boy who lives near Privet Drive, he had seen the boy a few times over summer while he was training. Mark was one of the children who had gathered around Harry and Hermione as they bench-pressed the company car. Harry was just happy that the kid hadn't gotten infected with the hero-worship that several of the other young children had been bitten by before arriving at Hogwarts, although a good portion were more afraid of him than awed.

After nearly two hours of eating and chatting with friends over the din in the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood once more.

'Now that we have all feasted on this marvellous meal, it is time to make some announcements.

'Firstly, as usual, the Forbidden Forest is as its name suggests, not for the dangers that usually lurk inside, but for the creatures that now are actively against humans and will do what they can to cut down those who enter.

'Second, Mr Filch, our caretaker, has once more asked me to remind you all that no magic shall be performed between classes and in the corridors. For a list of what is contraband, please see his office door, as there are too many items for me to mention while the night is still new.

'Thirdly, I would like to welcome the real professor Alastor Moody, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

Dumbledore paused for the polite applause to end. Moody didn't seem too comfortable with large crowds, and his blue glass eye was carefully checking every single person in the Great Hall, but he grunted and nodded in thanks for the recognition.

'I am certain that the great tragedy of the war has been shed some light on during the summer, and several innocent people have been brutally murdered. Among those was our beloved-' several students snorted at this '-Potions Master, Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin House. He will be sorely missed.' The aged headmaster ignored the snorting students and carried on. 'I myself will take over as acting Potions Master, and professor Sinistra has been kind enough to volunteer for the duties of being Head of House in Severus' stead.

'And on to more pleasant matters,' declared the headmaster after a moment of silence in respect for the deceased staff member. 'Last year, we held two new arrangements, alas, only one will remain, and that is the friendly rivalry between the Defence Association and the Duelling Club, which will take place, as last year, on the Quidditch pitch on the final day before the End of Year Feast. I presume the captains of the groups have no argument in this …

'And finally, there will be no Quidditch this year -' Dumbledore paused as most of the students stood from their seats in uproar, complaining about this very delicate matter. Eventually, Dumbledore got everyone settled down. 'As I was saying, there will be no Quidditch this year, because Hogwarts will be hosting the World Wizarding Championship. Directly after our Triwizard Tournament, the ministry went together with the International Confederation of Wizards, and they have arranged for each continent to hold their own Triwizard Tournaments during the previous year,' Harry got a lump in his throat and a chill ran down his spine. 'Their champions will come here to compete against our own champion, Harry Potter, for the title of World Wizarding Champion, of the teenage class, of course. There will be four official tasks, and two smaller ones that are not judged. The only one I can mention, is the Yule Ball that will take place. The four other schools will arrive within the end of this month.

'But enough about this, some of you are half asleep, prefects, take your first years to your houses, and have a good night.'

Harry got up with his friends, and helped them usher the first years through the corridors, hallways and staircases needed to get to Gryffindor tower. After all, as Head Boy, he has to set an example.

As the first years went up, Harry pecked Hermione on the cheek and walked up the boys' staircase, to the very top, where a door was situated, reading; Head Boy / Head Girl common room. He entered and found Hermione just entering from the twin door leading to the girls' staircase. There was a table in the middle of the small common room, and two overstuffed chairs in red leather with gold-painted wood. The small fireplace was crackling merrily on one side of the room, and the only window faced the lake, where the giant squid was playing with the moon's reflection in the water. There were two other doors, marked Head Boy and the other marked Head Girl.

'I missed you,' commented Harry as they fully entered the common room, and closed the doors behind them. He knew it was silly, they had hardly been out of each other's sight for a minute, but it was true.

Hermione smiled and wrapped him in a motherly hug. It could have been disturbing to Harry if he had realised it, or experienced it throughout his childhood, as it were, he was merely feeling loved and hugged his girlfriend in return.

'Time for bed,' she cooed and pecked Harry's head before letting him go and sauntering across the common room and through the door marked Head Girl. Harry was tempted to follow her, but knew that that would be pressing an issue they had agreed to wait with. Instead he entered his own door, and found a modest sized room with a four poster bed, like the one in his former dormitory, his trunk was at the foot of the bed, and his writing supplies had been set out on the desk that was facing a window with a view over the forbidden forest. There were two other doors in Harry's room, one leading to a wardrobe, where his clothes had been neatly hung and folded, the other wouldn't open as he pulled or pushed on it.

After several tries, the door finally opened, revealing a nice bathroom, not unlike the Prefect's Bathroom, but with an extra door on the other end of the room. That door was closed.

Not wanting to have to bother with another door, Harry quickly got ready for bed and was asleep nearly the instant his head landed on the pillow.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Harry awoke. He had had a nightmare. Something he hardly ever had any more. Cedric and Harry's parents were blaming him for their deaths, in his dream, and were attempting to have him join them in the afterlife.

Feeling that he would be a while before he would be able to fall asleep again, Harry dressed and went for a walk, maybe he could get a book from the Library, and read a bit.

Having a purpose, a goal to achieve before falling back asleep, Harry made his way down the staircase, through the common room, and down the corridors. As he walked, he mused about the perks of being Head Boy … being allowed to roam – or patrol – the corridors was just one of them, and he was taking advantage of that one now.

Carefully, Harry snuck into the Restricted Section of the library, knowing the most informative books were placed there.

He had just found a book that looked interesting, and was about to make a grab for it, when his pants caught on something, causing him to trip. Knowing how many of the books in the Restricted Section might react, Harry refrained from reaching out for something to break his fall, and instead braced himself for impact. He landed hard on the stone floor, feeling slightly sore at the forearms he had used to dampen his impact.

Harry looked down at his leg to see what had caused his fall, and saw that a small board near the bottom of a bookshelf, opening up a small space underneath, revealing something.

Curious, Harry untangled his pants from the board, and grabbed the object that had been hidden.

It was a book. A diary. The front had embossed the name; Lily Evans, with the word; Potter, scratched into the leather after.

A lump formed in Harry's throat. This was his mother's diary?

All thoughts of finding something interesting to read were forgotten, and a need to get back came over him, and made him hide the red leather book from view.

Harry was probably not at his most silent as he burst into the common room, up the staircase, through the small common room, and into his own, unaware of the noise he made. It was more important to find out more about his mother, as there was so little he really knew about her.

He carefully opened the book, and found it empty of all but pages.

All this excitement, and there was nothing in the diary … if it was empty, why was it hidden?

What if …

Harry hopped over to his desk and grabbed his quill and poised it at the ready.

With a careful and shaky hand, Harry wrote; Hello.

He stared at the page for a moment, and was slightly nervous when the word sank into the page.

_Hello, who are you?_ Was written in red ink not long after. Harry gathered his nerve and replied.

_I am Harry Potter, your son._

_Harry!_ The page read. _My baby, Harry! I've missed you terribly! How long has it been?_

Harry was puzzled, how could an enchanted book have emotions?

_Hello? Are you still there?_

Harry composed himself and composed a reply.

_Why are you acting like I have written before?_ He asked, wanting to know the reason.

_You haven't_, the book wrote, _but then again, when I left you, you were barely four months past a year. I'm happy to find you in good health, Voldemort rarely leaves anyone behind._

_How do you know about that?_ asked Harry suspiciously, she couldn't possibly have managed to store her memories within this diary and hide it within Hogwarts between the moment Voldemort fired the curse and it hit.

_Oh, well, I did something that can be considered as Dark Arts to achieve that result_, said the page. _I used to work at the Ministry in Spell Development, and managed to modify the memory transfer used for the pensieve, but there was only one use for it. If the spell has been cast, it will transfer a complete duplicate of the caster's mind into a predestined object, be it a pensieve or diary. I had enchanted my diary to act not unlike your father and his friends' map, and it became my focus after I died. You know, it is very tedious being a book that has been hidden for what feels like an eternity._

Harry contemplated this. He did a few tests on the diary, using the most harmless spells he knew of to verify that this was no trap.

_I believe you_, he answered after a few moments. Then he added; _Mum_.

* * *

The following morning, Harry was very tired as he met with most of the remaining DA outside the Room of Requirements, having not gotten much sleep because of his discovery, but he was happy. He had learned a couple of things about his mother, and found she had quite a temper after having started the story of his life after she died. He could practically feel the heat off the pages was he told about his childhood, and could tell that the book was only just restraining its temper from making an explosive outburst.

However tired Harry was, he was also extremely chipper, and carried out his training with ease while yelling half heartedly at those lagging behind from a summer of laziness.

He knew that he could not let Dumbledore know of his mother's diary, or he'd be sure to destroy it like Harry destroyed Tom Riddle's diary, in fear of it being a dark artefact. Harry knew that a tiny bit of dark magic had been put to use in the creation of the spell, but he had checked with every kind of magic he knew, that wouldn't ruin the book, and could find no ill intent, apart from the moment he told about his childhood in the care of aunt Petunia.

Harry was helping Hermione stretch her thighs after the morning training when she gave a very pained yelp and fell to the ground, clutching her abdomen. He immediately came to help, but Hermione refused it, stubbornly but with a grateful face, saying she could handle it herself.

Harry was her shadow as she stumbled towards the Hospital wing, feeling pain for not being allowed to aid her in her time of pain.

He was made to wait outside the doors as Hermione entered the realm of the mother-hen of a matron. Like a nervous father in the waiting room of the maternity ward of a hospital, Harry paced back and forth as he waited. He was nearly literally climbing the walls when Hermione returned, with something stuffed under her robes and with a stiff walk.

'What is it?' asked Harry as soon as she was completely out. 'Is everything all right?'

'Hmm? Oh, yes everything is in order,' jumped Hermione, as though surprised he would still be there.

Silently, Harry followed his girlfriend as they returned to Gryffindor tower to shower and changed clothes for the day. Harry was still worried about Hermione, but didn't want to smother her, so he let her go into her room without holding her back, though he made it perfectly clear that he was not happy about it.

Harry no longer worried about the locked door, his mother had been so kind as to explain it to him. As it was rare that the Head Boy and the Head Girl were of the same house, a safety mechanism had been put into the doors leading to the joint bathroom, so that only one could be inside at a time. When one was in, the bathroom door of the counterpart's room was closed and locked, to keep things decent and proper. The only exception to the rule was if the two were wed, but then they would be sharing quarters instead of living in separate ones.

They went down to breakfast together in silence, Harry casting worried glances at Hermione every few steps, as she was walking very stiffly, and was still hiding something within her robes.

The Great Hall was starting to fill up when the two arrived, and finding a seat was still not a problem.

Just as they sat down, Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione quickly whipping a ring-shaped cushion from her robes and placing it underneath her as she sat.

He remained silent about it all through breakfast, and as they received their lesson plan. However, as they arrived at Transfigurations and Hermione winced as she sat down on her cushion, he could stay silent no longer and asked her what had been the matter, making sure to keep his tone down to avoid attention, luckily, Hermione and Harry had managed to learn Gobbledegook over the month they had spent in each others' company, thanks to the Merpeople's spell, and used it to keep from being understood if they were overheard.

Hermione winced at her situation before resigning herself to her fate.

'When I was stretching, my body didn't agree with me, and protested by tearing my hymen,' she whispered, blushing.

'Hymen?' asked Harry, trying to remember where he had heard that word before.

'Yes,' confirmed Hermione, blushing as she continued, 'also known as the "virgin barrier" …'

Realisation hit Harry like a herd of runaway Eruptment, causing him to blush as well.

'Madam Pomfrey gave me something to heal the wound, and for the pain, but it isn't working completely. It will take a day or two before I'm back to normal, movement wise. I'm sorry you weren't the one to break my barrier,' she finished. Her blush was very obvious, and Harry sported a matching one.

'As fascinating as this conversation must be, Mr Potter and Miss Granger, we are supposed to try and transfigure large objects into small creatures,' commented professor McGonagall sternly. 'And five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class.'

Hermione made sure not to speak out of turn again, and both she and Harry competed in getting more points for Gryffindor by answering correctly and performing their tasks as quickly and accurately as possible. Near the end of class, professor McGonagall had to ignore the two for a while so as not to be accused of nepotism, and the other students were put on the spot.

After class, Harry attempted to reassure Hermione that he didn't mind her predicament and that he cared by giving her a peck, but it was interrupted by professor McGonagall sternly telling them to move along, as she had another class to teach soon. Reluctantly, the two walked along the corridors, Harry keeping close to Hermione so her stiff walk would be less noticeable.

In Charms, Harry attempted once more to kiss his girlfriend, but professor Flitwick interrupted only a hairs' width before contact, commenting on how Harry was applying himself to the wrong kind of charm at the moment.

It was an interesting class, where they briefly discussed the possibility of Summoning creatures from other realms into this one to do ones bidding, and why it was considered dark arts. Harry and Hermione made a good case for why this was not evil or dark arts, having studied the art over the summer, and argued that many of the charms they learned in their first year could be used as dark arts if one was in the right frame of mind.

'If you used the levitation charm, for instance, you could easily kill someone, just as you could with a tickling charm or a jelly-leg jinx. The levitation charm could be used to float someone high into the air or off a cliff before it was lifted,' stated Hermione seriously, 'you could easily overdo a tickling charm so the victim lost control of their movements, just like with a jelly-leg jinx, causing them to fall off or onto something they shouldn't.'

'The Imperious curse could just as easily be used to rid someone of a nasty habit, and the Killing curse could be used to get rid of an ill pet or rabid beast,' continued Harry. 'There is no such thing as dark and light magic, the intent alone holds the responsibility and amount of evil. Therefore, Summoning creatures that do not have corporal form into existence in trade for a few services is not evil, unless the intent and service is evil. The Summoned creatures has nothing it wants more than to exist, and will in most cases agree to anything just to briefly become real, just never try to Summon a shadow Panther, for they will in ninety-seven out of a hundred cases end up killing the Summoner.'

The two were given ten points for their well researched argument, and professor Flitwick went on to describe some of the beasts that were said to have been Summoned to this realm, dementors were among those creatures, which made Harry slightly annoyed, as the promise from the Lord of Azkaban would mean very close to nothing if Voldemort managed to Summon his own dementors, as they would not be under his control. He resolved to write a carefully worded letter to the man as soon as he could.

When Harry had Hermione just outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, he tried once more to kiss her, but was interrupted by the scratchy yell of Professor Moody, telling them to get in.

Moody was impressed with some of his students' knowledge as far as his class was concerned, and had learned that those students had been students of Harry's for two – going on its third – years, and decided to give Gryffindor one point extra credit for every correct answer from Harry's students, as well as points for those houses the students were from for answering or demonstrating correctly. Harry protested to this special attention, but was told to pipe down and pay attention, because if this class was as advanced as it appeared to be, Moody planned to advance much faster than their lesson plans dictated.

After lunch, Harry attempted to steal a moment from Hermione in the Entrance Hall before they both went to Arithmancy together, but Hagrid interrupted as he led the third year class through the doors, as it had begun to rain, ruining his lesson to the point of it having to be had inside.

Once inside the empty Arithmancy classroom, Harry tried once more to give Hermione a kiss, but it was interrupted by the arrival of their professor, and some other students, Ravenclaws, all of which glared at the two for getting the titles of Head Boy and Head Girl. Throughout the double lesson in Arithmancy, Harry and Hermione alternated between taking notes and writing down test formulae for new spells, which they were both aware of they needed if they should stand any chance against Death Eaters and Voldemort in the final confrontation, which could not be all that long off considering how thoroughly Voldemort was cleaning out his ranks. They had both ideas of how to deal with both threats. Death Eaters were simple enough, they only needed to be caught with a spell that they couldn't be revived from unless someone knew the exact counter spell, which is where Hermione's transfiguration spell came into play. In theory, it would transfigure body and clothing separately, making the body into a harmless creature and their clothes into secure caging for this animal. Voldemort's greatest weakness was love, and Harry was attempting to figure out some variation of the Patronus spell to kill the creature once and for all.

Before they were had reached the Room of Requirements for their afternoon DA meeting, Harry stole Hermione into a small alcove, in hopes of getting the kiss he had been craving all day. Hermione seemed equally excited about the prospect of this chaste intimate declaration of love or affection, and didn't protest to being pulled about like a rag doll. Their lips were just about to touch, when a polite cough interrupted, and Dumbledore stood close by with Fawkes on his shoulder, looking like he was trying not to see them.

'What is the matter with you professors today!' demanded Harry in a snarl. 'I've been trying to kiss my girlfriend all day, but every single time, one of the faculty interrupts! Have you all taken a course in bad timing over the summer!'

The aged headmaster chuckled good-naturedly and turned to face them.

'Not at all, Harry,' he stated with no hidden amount of humour, 'it must simply be bad luck. I merely went in search of you to lend you Fawkes so that you may sort out your new students and current students for the worthy ones. That I happened upon you just at that moment was merely good fortune on my part.'

Harry grumbled as he accepted the phoenix and headed for the Room of Requirements, leaving the chuckling headmaster behind. Hermione sighed in resignation at Harry's mood, mostly because it reflected her own.

The DA was slightly more eventful, as there were nearly forty students wishing to be accepted into it waiting outside the wall where the door would appear not long from then. It was a lucky day for the DA, because only ten had been rejected for one reason or another. Either they would not accept the tight training schedule, or they were only joining to be spies for someone. It was also fortunate that none of the existing members had been corrupted over the summer, or they would have been kicked out.


	7. Chapter 7

Time passed, as it does regardless of circumstances, and Harry finally got the opportunity to kiss Hermione more often.

Hermione's birthday passed, and she was very happy with the dinner the two had alone in their common room, and seemed pleased with the bracelet Harry had given her as a present. He was certain she would have loved a book more, but he thought that a book seemed slightly cold. The bracelet had been crafted on request, and was composed of silver and gold threads braided in Celtic knots to form the loop for the hand, and connected on a perfectly smooth dome-shaped ruby that had a rose etched into it in platinum and diamond. Every time Harry thought of her, it would glow softly. She had kissed him thoroughly in thanks for the bracelet, and nearly singed herself on the live candles at their table as she had not bothered to step around it.

The soreness Hermione had experienced for a few days after she had her accident while stretching abated soon enough, and she was able to return to training without giving away any indications of anything being wrong. She had written her parents on a weekly basis, and informed them of her accident, they were very understanding, although she voiced her suspicion about their delayed response by them having taken the question of the probability of this accident to a physician.

Dumbledore was a very skilled Potions Instructor, even with his jovial nature. Hardly surprising considering that he was one of those who discovered the Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood. The Slytherins suffered from the lack of their former Head of House, as the nepotism was no longer present, meaning they did not get away with things they did before, they did not get points for no reason, and the other houses were not deducted points for being smart or for something instigated by a Slytherin. This meant that the Slytherin students had to live up to their house's reputation to get away with things.

During Care of Magical Creatures class, it was discovered that the reason for Madame Maxime being at Hogwarts was in two parts. The first was that Hagrid had managed to propose to her, but was unable to afford a fancy ring. The second reason was that the French board of education found her to be half-giant, and in the regular unbiased view caused them to fire her from her position as headmistress. She had then moved to Hogwarts to assist Hagrid, her fiancée, in his job as teacher.

* * *

It was the last week of September when Dumbledore stood in front of the closed doors of the Great Hall when dinner was usually served, and announced that all should step outside so they could greet their guests, grouped together according to year, Head Boy and Head Girl in front with the teachers.

Everyone followed the command, students trooping out and grouping together with their own year, subconsciously dividing into houses as well, on the front lawn of the castle. It was beginning to darken already, and Dumbledore stood and gazed at the sky which was slowly colouring to the purple that matched his star and moon covered robes. His silvery white beard and hair were taking on soft hues of the sky, and the headmaster himself was humming a merry ditty as he stood and tipped from heel to toe as he sucked on a lemon drop.

'How will the other schools be arriving?' asked professor McGonagall.

Dumbledore chuckled in his usual way. 'If I told you that, I would be ruining the surprise.'

The students were not exactly pleased to learn this, but kept their peace, as it would not be nice to force things out of the headmaster.

'Ah, here we have the Salem Institute of Magic,' announced Dumbledore, looking down towards the Hogsmeade station.

A black serpent was coiling itself across the sky, coming closer and closer. Some students exclaimed that it was a dragon, but the elder students put those fears to rest.

'It's a train!' exclaimed Neville after a moment of intense staring.

Indeed it was, it was a darkly coloured train of a modern design. The sleek form came down, and pulled to a stop near the banks of the lake. The train was so large; it was obvious that it was meant for more than just transportation. The windows of the dark blue train were tinted dark, so there was no way of telling what went on inside, but after a moment, the doors opened, and students poured from it, numbering near a hundred all in all, every single student wearing casual clothing.

A grown man stepped out of the train, amidst his seventeen and sixteen year old students, and approached the Hogwarts group, his students following behind. The man was of slightly higher than average height, brown hair and appeared to be in his forties. He wore a casual brown suit and green tweed blazer, with black leather patches attached to his elbows.

'Brown, old friend!' stated Dumbledore happily and clasped the hand the man extended automatically. 'Good to see you again, it has been far too long!'

'Nearly twenty years, Albus,' agreed the man, obviously the headmaster of the American students.

'Please, step inside, dinner will be served shortly, as soon as everyone is gathered.'

'Thank you, Albus,' Brown turned to his students. 'Alright, you heard the man! Inside, and behave! Remember that you are guests and represent your continent, so act dignified!'

On his way in, Brown shook hands with all of the staff that had lined up, including Harry and Hermione.

As the students of the American continent made their way inside, the Hogwarts students returned to their scouting of the horizon.

Harry was the first to spot that a portion of the grounds not far from the Quidditch pitch was heating to the pint where there were distortions in the air. From this distortion, it appeared that a tiny village of clay huts grew out of the ground, which was turned into warm brown soil. Suddenly, the illusion of a distortion vanished, leaving the clay huts and soil.

'Ah, the Dark Continent School of Magic,' commented Dumbledore.

A mass of dark faces poured from the huts, and were led by a large powerfully built man, he reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt, but with a closely cut head of hair and slim glasses. He also wore a smart business suit that had a black pin at his high necked shirt instead of a tie. A row of pearly white teeth appeared as he came closer and spotted Dumbledore.

'Compton!' greeted Dumbledore merrily. Harry idly wondered if the man could ever greet anyone with anything but friendliness. 'Brown is already inside, please join them, as I dare venture this is not a climate your students are accustomed to.'

Headmaster Compton smiled silently and greeted all the staff and Heads before he proceeded inside, followed by a sea of grey and white boarding school uniformed students. All but the headmaster appeared to be freezing in the mild British autumn air. Harry wondered what those students had been expecting when temperature was concerned. It seemed lucky for them that the patch of the grounds their huts were on was heated, so they wouldn't go cold for too long.

'And here is the Magic Academy of the Rising Sun,' commented Dumbledore casually.

On the grounds, not too far from where the Dark Continent's encampment was, a shower of purple and pink petals rained down from a great height. As they descended, a tree became visible behind the shower. A cherry tree of a very grand scale, with windows, balconies and doors embedded into the trunk, warm light pouring from within.

The main door opened, and a female figure stepped out, clad in a soft purple kimono with golden print of trees and phoenixes. Her dark hair was done up in a bun that was held together by a pair of decorated and lacquered chopsticks, and a pink fan that matched the kimono in print covered most of the lightly decorated face. The woman radiated the warmth and caring of a mother, although her figure would not confess of any childbirth on her part.

The woman elegantly glided across the lawns, closely followed by students clad in blue and grey boarding school uniforms.

'Yorokobashii e Hogwarts, Saijin-san,' greeted Dumbledore in a formal bow, but he did not bow too deep, or his glasses and hat would have come off. 'I hope our school will be most hospitable during your stay, and that none offend your students' honour.'

'Albus-san, you are too formal,' giggled the woman pleasantly but seemed grateful for the greeting.

'I should hope so,' jested the headmaster. 'Please, you and your students are welcome to join our other guests as we wait for our last one. The feast shall be served as soon as the Australian contingent has arrived.'

'Arigato, Albus-san,' bowed the headmistress and proceeded to bow at each teacher and Head before she and her students entered the castle. Harry could tell that this woman was not only older than she appeared, but would absolutely age gracefully and live past one hundred and fifty years of age, unless shortened by accident or intent, and would retain some beauty even in death. Her students seemed to admire and respect her, and from what Harry could tell, there was no trace of veela blood in her.

It came as quite a surprise to everyone when a huge anchor lowered itself from the sky and into the lake. No one had seen anything, but suddenly a great Cruise Ship was floating in the air above the lake, higher than the tallest of Hogwarts' towers. An army of small black dots fell off the ship, causing some of the students to gasp in fear of the victims, only to have the majority of the witches and wizards that dove perform – to some degree of success – the Wronski feint, before landing before Dumbledore.

The students all wore powder blue robes, which the boys seemed to hold slight aversion to.

A blonde woman in her thirties stepped off her broom, which she had ridden sideways as a proper lady should, and greeted the headmaster.

'A pleasure to meet you, Miss Banks,' returned Dumbledore and gracefully gave her hand a kiss on the back. 'If you'd follow us, the other schools are waiting in the Great Hall. The feast will start as soon as we have presented our champions.'

The students all steamed inside, the Hogwarts students having been standing out for nearly three quarters of an hour, and the Woollongong students were used to a warmer climate, so it was of utmost importance for most to enter as quickly as possible.

When everyone entered the Great Hall, they saw that the hall itself was enlarged to hold the large crowd, instead of four house tables and a head table; there were now a large number of smaller circular tables seating ten at the most. The foreign students had gathered at tables where their own country was in superior number, while the headmasters and teachers of those schools had gathered with the others of their profession. Conversations of several languages were spoken, excitement nearly tangible in the air.

Harry and Hermione found seats near the tables occupied by the teachers, but Harry was unable to sit, as all five headmasters of headmistresses were waving their champions up from their seats.

Dumbledore stood to make the introductions.

'Welcome everyone, to Hogwarts,' he started. 'I hope all our guests will feel at home during this yearlong championship, but before we can have any sort of championship, we must all be introduced to our champions! So without further ado, let me introduce to you, Miss Samantha Johnson of the Salem Institute!'

A girl that looked to be a ditzy blonde stood and waved eagerly, blowing kisses as people applauded her. She had a build that many women would kill to attain, and men would kill to "own". Her wardrobe left little to the imagination, even if all her "bits" were completely covered. Harry idly wondered how she managed to won the American Triwizard Tournament, as she hardly looked like she could figure out what two and two would make, let alone remember a spell to save her life.

'And from the Dark Continent, we have Ngame!'

A boy that was obviously no stranger to hunting stood, a scar running vertically across the right half of his face. His black skin shining in the light.

'From the Rising Sun Academy, Kasumi Tsuniko!'

A girl at about Hermione's height stood, blushing at the attention. Her brown hair tied into a low ponytail that was tied with ribbons at evenly spaced intervals to the tip of the hair, which reached to her lower back. Her uniform was immaculate, and she wore a near undetectable amount of make-up. The girl bowed respectfully to her teachers and the so far announced opponents. While her torso assets weren't as large as those of Samantha, she could hold her own, and was most definitely fit in body, and a twinkle in her eye spoke of withheld information. She was acting less intelligent than she really was.

'From the Woollongong School of Magic, we have Bruce Cooper!'

A boy with a folded bandana covering his head stood u on the table and did a back-flip back down to the floor before sticking his arms out in victory signs, his short red hair sticking out at his forehead. The bandana had the caption of "DAREDEVIL". He also looked the type to chase anything in a skirt, which would be unfortunate, as robes could on occasion look like long skirts, and not many wizards cared much for keeping their hair short.

'And last, but certainly not least, from Hogwarts, Harry Potter!'

Harry looked about and waved tentatively, wincing as several people wolf whistled at him. He was aware that he had developed very much physically since the last photograph taken of him in human form, and that he surprised several with his new appearance, some more positively than others.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and food appeared on every table, with a variation of dishes from all over the world.

Ron was not too happy about this ('Eating fish raw is unnatural! Give me good old Bubble and Squeak any day!') and stuck with what British meals he could find.

The meal was consumed amidst friendly banter and conversation, and Harry felt the eyes of several individuals at several times during the feast. It was nearly unsettling having people staring at him as he ate, but he had six years of practice in ignoring it, and carried on as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He could tell Hermione was slightly more on edge with all the new girls and women present, and discreetly rested his free hand on her hand to calm her.

Several of the foreign students would at times stand in their seats and take photographs, like Collin Creevey was prone to do, bathing the Great Hall in bright lights. Harry knew that at least five of those photos would be printed in various wizarding papers the following day. Hopefully the other champions would be mentioned in those papers as well … he didn't like being called attention-seeker when he had done nothing to warrant the attention he got.

At least Snape wasn't there to try and personally deflate Harry's supposedly swelled head as he had been trying to do since the moment Harry stepped onto Hogwarts' grounds. The problem with Snape trying to deflate his head, was that there wasn't much to deflate to begin with. Harry had been insecure for ages, and only during the past two or three years had he started becoming more confident.

Malfoy had tried to do what his former Head of House had done, but with far less results, as his words bore as much weight as a single grain of salt in the entire ocean.

Harry discussed his theories with Hermione, concerning what they normally talked about when they weren't being studious, training or affectionate, namely killing Voldemort, in gobbledygook so as few as possible could understand. As they talked, they absorbed some of the Japanese words they heard through the hall, but made no move to try and understand it yet. They knew that with the Merpeople spell, they would be able to learn from memory of only a few spoken words at the least, and saw no reason for trying to draw attention to themselves.

Nearly two hours passed before Dumbledore stood from his seat and dismissed quietened everyone down.

'As you all have been made aware, this is the World Wizarding Championship,' the aged man started. 'As such, the five competitors are given roughly one month to prepare themselves to face their first task. It shall not be revealed yet what that task is, as we wouldn't want any repeats of our Triwizard Championship, where two competitors were spirited away by a portkey and into the grasp of the enemy.'

It was by now too late in the evening to start the evening DA lesson, so it was postponed until a later date, with extra hard training the following day.

* * *

The first morning after the arrival of the foreign schools was a slightly confusing time for the members of the DA, as the foreign students walked the corridors and asked questions about everything, including membership in the DA, which they had found out about when they were asking about the school.

Harry had no problem with accepting foreign students, because maybe they would spread the concept on to their schools, and help form an international club instead of merely a school club. Not to mention that the more that were proficient in the duelling and fighting arts, the tougher would Voldemort's – or any future Dark Lord's – rise be. Fawkes was once more borrowed for the sorting, and only ten interested, about four from the Rising Sun, two from Woollongong, two from Salem and two from the Dark Continent were accepted of those interested that had tried. And these had to be acquainted with their routine, slowing the process of the others by about two days, grand total. One or two had some informal – or formal where the Rising Sun Academy was concerned – training in the martial arts, so it was slightly easier for them to adapt, they also found the newly developed style very effective and stylish. It looked nearly like a dance when Harry and Hermione demonstrated a few kata for the new members. The ones with knowledge of martial arts remarked how extraordinary it was for someone with such a muscular build – Harry – to move so gracefully without the aid of magic.

Word had spread quickly, and new international members were initiated into the Duelling Club to even out the advantage.

* * *

It was two weeks into the new month when Harry and Hermione were teaching mild Summoning spells, a dark figure with a sword was summoned by an overly nervous Japanese student, who had been informed about the dangers of Summoning, and gone in over his head. They had only learned one or two of the spells that could be cast with a wand, for security reasons. It would be unsafe to have dozens of children that knew how to Summon beings of molten lava, as large as dragons, to do their bidding in a fit of rage. But even good wizards and witches are capable of mispronouncing even the simplest of spells, which was the reason they now had a ninja made of pure shadow, with glowing red eyes.

The Shadow Ninja hissed and made to decapitate its summoner when Hermione whipped out a gun from under her arm, and fired a single shot through its head, causing it to explode in a red light. Before the corpse hit the ground, everything about it dissolved into a misty shadow.

Silence met the muffled explosion, and everyone turned to Harry and Hermione who were doing some last checks before putting away the enchanted gun.

'Get back to training, and don't try something larger or more dangerous than a fairy,' barked Harry.

Everyone quickly went back to their own business, pretending not to look at the two.

'That's one secret less,' mumbled Harry out the corner of his mouth, pinching Hermione's bottom in punishment for giving the secret so quickly away.

Hermione squeaked in surprise at the pinch, and stuck out her tongue at him.

Harry captured said tongue in a quick but emotional kiss.

A chorus of whistles made them end it and return to supervising the DA.

'Harry!'

Harry was roused from his task of animating a chair to do tap dancing without falling over by the excited voice of Collin Creevey's little sister.

'Dumbledore wants you to come with me,' she panted breathlessly. Being too young for the DA, she was very out of form compared to those who were in it. 'Something about getting you weighed …'

Harry groaned and got up. 'Another Weighing of the Wands Ceremony …' he muttered. 'I'll be back as soon as possible, love.'

Hermione coloured slightly from being called by that endearment so publicly, but nodded and waved him out.

'Lead the way, Charlotte,' he muttered to the recovering second year.

The energetic child bounced to attention and apologised to professor McGonagall for interrupting her class before grabbing Harry's large arm and attempted to drag him along. Harry merely let himself be dragged along, while trying to retain his dignity. He did not want to be seen as a giant softie like Hagrid was, fear and respect went a long way in letting Harry keep his privacy, and he was getting tired of declining the offers of the Daily Prophet made to print articles about him. Gringotts really helped him with keeping things under control, but if the rumour got out that he was being led around by the hand by a girl nearly small enough to be stacked on top of herself three times before reaching his full height, the various companies would assume him soft enough to allow using him without permission … again. That simply would not do.

The pair arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, and Charlotte stopped her progress there.

'You have to go in there,' she said eagerly, 'I have to go back to class now,' she added and sprinted down the corridors before disappearing behind a door that started pretending it was a wall. The door even managed to convince a suit of armour to block it to make it look more real.

Shaking his head at the insane castle, Harry entered the Great Hall, where the other four champions had gathered near the table usually occupied by the headmasters and headmistresses.

Not far from them stood three persons. One was a nervous looking man, pad and quill in his hands, and eyes darting about, looking for someone. Next there was Rita Skeeter, her Quick Quote Quill perched on a piece of parchment, ready to write. Her mannish hands holding a compact mirror that she was currently using to touch up her make-up, and her horned glasses perched on top of her head so as not to get in the way. Finally there was the Daily Prophet's photographer, who was doing some last minute checks on his equipment.

Harry slipped past the three and joined the other champions, making Samantha shriek in fright as she realised someone had simply appeared beside her without her noticing.

The spectacle brought attention to Harry by everyone.

Harry cringed at the noise, and mentally flinched as Rita Skeeter suddenly appeared before him, pumping his hands and having her photographer snap photos every few seconds.

'Mr Potter,' greeted the unknown man with a pad. 'I am from the Chocolate Frog Company, and we were told you had agreed to let us use you in our cards, would now be a good time, or should I come back at a less hectic moment?'

Harry sighed. He remembered authorising that card, but he also remembered that they were to wait for about a year before printing it. His mother had been very proud of him when she heard of the offer and encouraged him to take it. She had also remarked how she wished she could see her son, and how much he had changed. He shook himself from the memories and turned to the man.

'Later would probably be better,' Harry remarked. 'I will get in touch with you during the summer.'

'Of course,' agreed the man sadly.

'Harry! Good to see you again!'

Harry wasn't happy about Rita being so familiar with him, as they had only met a few times, and hardly a single one of them had been pleasant. The woman in her mid forties gave the young man a hug, to which Harry stood as stiff as a board and refused to return.

'You do realise that the Daily Prophet won't be able to publish any articles about me without my permission, right?'

Rita scoffed. 'Hardly,' she replied. 'The agreement was that any article about you, exclusively, was to be checked by you. I read the contract. This is an article about the World Wizarding Championship, therefore the Prophet will be able to print anything, as long as it isn't solely about you, the Boy-Who-Lived. So, tell me, how did you manage to sneak in here without being noticed? An invisibility cloak? A spell?'

Harry, who had raised a brow at the comment about his contract snorted. 'Muggles aren't the only ones who do not pay attention to their surroundings. I walked in, pure and simple. You were all just too immersed in your own dealings to notice.'

Luckily, Harry had no further need to speak, as Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses entered, followed by Ollivander. The group took their seats at the table they usually sat at, with Ollivander in the middle. Harry took out his wand to save some time and to keep his holster hidden, and winced slightly at the sight. His wand had not been polished as much as he wished it had been, and there were dents in the wood where it had impacted against various things. The wood had eve started to mould itself to his hand at the hilt, or rather where he usually gripped it. He never realised how hard his grip was until now.

'Miss Tsuniko, if you would please,' urged Dumbledore with his usual smile.

Kasumi Tsuniko stood from her seat, blushed as she looked upon Harry, and walked elegantly up to the table where she handed Ollivander her wand.

'Oh, a fine wand,' commented the wand maker in his airy voice, Harry idly wondered if he was related to Luna in any way as they seemed to share many personality quirks. 'Ten inches, willow, with a whisker of a Kitsune for a core, very unusual …' he gave the wand a wave, as though testing for balance. 'It has seen its fair share of use, if the scratches are anything to judge by …' he sniffed the wand a couple of times before looking up. 'Strange musky odour … possibly the polish… let me see here … _Vino_!'

A fountain of dark red wine shot from the tip of the wand and into a goblet. Ollivander took a sip and let the liquid be swirled around a bit in the goblet before setting it down, seemingly satisfied.

'Exquisite,' he commented. Kasumi accepted her wand back, and was blushing for some reason.

'Miss Johnson,' continued Dumbledore.

Samantha Johnson came forward and commented; 'Please, call me Sam,' before handing Ollivander her wand. Harry could have sworn she was winking at him not long after her comment.

'Hmm … a good wand, this …' muttered Ollivander. 'Twelve inches, oak – a curious material to use in a wand – with the horn of a unicorn … I'm partial to the hair of a unicorn, but this works just as well … the top half seems to have been in frequent use … it has a similar peculiar odour to that of Miss Tsuniko's … do you use the same brand polish?'

'Er …' blushed Sam, Kasumi blushed as well. 'I guess we might …'

'Oh, well … not important, let's see here … _Ovum Cocoa_!'

A brown bubble grew on the tip of the wand before landing on the table as a chocolate egg, complete with a bow in sparkling colours. The old man with his staring eyes cracked the egg against the table and watched as the shell fell to pieces, and a tiny chick of white chocolate that tweeted feebly for a moment before falling still, much like the chocolate frog which would move for a bit. The man bit into a piece of the chocolate shell and chick.

'Perfection,' sighed the man and allowed the others to have a taste. Sam got her wand back and returned to her seat.

'Mr Cooper,' Dumbledore called.

Bruce Cooper got up from his seat and walked up to the table, not a care in the world.

'Not bad,' commented Ollivander, 'Nine inches, Beech, tail feather of an augury … slightly bendy … poorly maintained, although it hasn't seen much more use than during class …' the spindly fingers of the wand maker ran along the wand, 'there appears to be some green substance left on it from something or other … let's see how it fares … _Fulmen Calamus_!'

A crack of thunder rung out in the Great Hall, and a spark of lightning flew out the window under the ceiling where the owls normally entered.

'Excellent.'

'Mr Ngame,' stated Dumbledore.

The African hunter stalked up to the table, his wand already out and ready.

'Hmm … Cherry, ten inches, and the fang of a Nundu … very curious combination …' muttered Ollivander and peered at the wand. 'Fairly well used and maintained … although it has seen one or two battles without being used, I see, the small chip in the hilt shows that it was hidden away at the time … OK … _Sanitas Argumentum_!'

A beam of white shot out of Harry, on whom the wand had been trained, and an illusion of him appeared hovering between Harry and Ollivander. The representation of Harry was unfortunately nude, and small arrows of energy were sticking out from all over him, tiny comments on his health written at the end of the arrows. Nothing was wrong, or there would be a red mist surrounding the writing, but it was not the least bit funny for Harry whom had just been seen nude in front of not only nearly a dozen strangers, but a photographer as well, and as this was an event article not entirely about him, they could safely show any photographs they took of him, including the ones the photographer was currently taking photographs on the orders of Skeeter.

'Very good.'

'Mr Potter,' finished Dumbledore.

Harry was conscious of not having maintained his wand for a while as he approached the table and handed over his wand.

'Yes, this I remember, very curious … holly, eleven inches, one tail feather of a phoenix … oh my, this certainly has been used a lot, and you've got quite a grip, Mr Potter … not been polished in a while … perhaps one of the young women could lend you their polish …' Harry noted that both girls blushed deeply and smiled in anticipation at this comment. '_Vocare Ego Umbra Miles_!'

A black circle appeared on the ground, and a black figure rose from it. A black sword in hand, a black round shield on its arm, black armour covering every inch of its body. Harry's senses were screaming of danger, and his hand nearly automatically darted out and pierced the armour without aid or apparent resistance, making a cavity where the heart should be. The figure dissolved into black mist nearly instantly, leaving Harry to explain how he was able to punch through metal, skin, organs and bones in one light punch.

'I've been training,' he simply stated, trying to sound intimidating so no questions were asked.

Lucky for him, this worked, as one or two of them seemed to have soiled themselves, the photographer was one of them.

'Well, now that this is out of the way, I would say that the champions are free to leave,' declared Dumbledore, his face showing no sign of surprise at the events that had just taken place.

'Yes,' agreed Ollivander and returned Harry's wand to him.

The photographer halted the champions for a group photo, and Harry had to endure having both of the female champions next to him, dangerously close to him. Hermione was not going to like it when she found that she had two more contestants for him, even if he was firmly set on her. Hermione was far too insecure about herself, which led her to think – at times – that Harry would leave her as soon as something better came along.

He would really have to do something to secure her beliefs in his love. There were two options; one, make love to her – something they had both agreed to postpone until they were at least out of Hogwarts, maybe until marriage. Two, propose to her – something he was already in the planning stage of.

* * *

Time passed surprisingly fast, with studies, having conversations with his mother who was still in her diary, training, Head Boy duties and alone time with Hermione, and sooner than he had expected, the day of the first task was upon him. There had been little activity from Voldemort, apart from mounting forces gathered all over the world, and the occasional attack on Muggles and Muggle born. Fudge was actually contemplating revealing the wizarding world to the Muggles so they could have aid, but this suggestion was met with heavy resistance and claims that Muggles would become too dependent on magic to solve all their problems. Harry had sent in a letter to the Quibbler, asking the general wizarding population if wizards and witches did not depend too much upon magic. He did so under an assumed name, and the letter brought many agreements, also anonymous. Hermione had reacted to the photographs in the Daily Prophet the way Harry had anticipated, namely becoming slightly cold for a few days, as though she was testing him, checking if he would seek comfort in other girls' arms. Harry made it a point to remain as close to her as possible, and when not doing anything, while not in her company, he sat in his room, reading. He had noticed that the Marauder map had vanished, and knew that Hermione would study it from time to time.

It was Hallowe'en, and everyone were milling out to the Quidditch pitch where it all would take place.

The five champions were ushered into the dressing room on the end closer to the castle, where they were to wait until they were called. Harry dressed in training clothes, but made sure to hide away a few blades for safety. The five of them sat there and listened to the stands being filled.

Ten minutes into the waiting, Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses entered with Cornelius Fudge, who looked about until he spotted Harry, then cringed in remembrance of his past actions against Harry.

'Good, you are all present and accounted for,' opened Dumbledore. 'It is time to initiate you into what your task will be.' A shrieking roar was heard from the outside, sending shivers down most spines. 'Ah, it appears Hagrid and his baby brother has released one onto the pitch already, good … it'll give it some time to calm down before we begin.'

'You will each be facing a Graphorn,' interrupted minister Fudge impatiently. 'The tasks of this Championship were designed to give the champions something of practical use for after the Championship, and acquiring some hide from a Graphorn is the first ingredient you will need to complete it.'

'Thank you, Cornelius,' commented Dumbledore. 'Yes, that is exactly what you will be doing. You will – in turn – enter the pitch and carve a piece of the Graphorn's hide from its living body. Not to worry,' he added seeing the revulsion on the girls' faces, 'the Graphorn heals very quickly, and some salve will be applied to aid it, so they will not suffer lasting damage from this encounter … chances are that they will not even remember anything of this before night comes.'

'All that remains is to determine the order you will enter in,' finished Fudge.

'Quite right, Cornelius,' agreed Dumbledore, although annoyance could be mildly detected on the elder man's face. 'And for just that purpose, we have decided to resort to a highly advanced, complicated method of selection that would be fair for all involved, while remaining completely random.'

He reached out and plucked the bowler hat from the Minister for Magic's head and tossed in some scraps of paper.

'Miss Banks, if you would do the honours?'

Harry nearly laughed at the expression on Fudge's face, and a guffaw escaped his control at the highly advanced and complicated method of selection Dumbledore had told them about. Drawing names from a hat. The Australian headmistress reached into the lime green bowler and rooted about for a bit. She then pulled out a piece of paper.

'The first to go on will be …' stated Dumbledore, 'Samantha, good luck.'

Miss Banks returned to her rooting, and found another.

'Samantha will be followed by … Bruce.'

Again, the hand returned to the hat.

'Bruce will be followed by … Harry.'

Harry sighed, at least he wouldn't be first or last, the two most dreaded positions for contests.

'Harry will be followed by … Ngame. Which leaves Kasumi for last. Please wait here until your names have been called.'

The group of six exited the locker room for the teacher's box, and the five students from separate continents were left to wait again.

'So, Harry,' started Sam. 'How attached are you to that girl that seems attached to your arm or hip?'

Harry idly noted that Kasumi leaned forward slightly at the question, revealing interest.

'Very,' replied Harry. 'I believe there to be a hidden bond between us, as she seems to know when I am in any kind of distress without me saying or doing anything to reveal it. I intend to spend the rest of my days keeping her happy in any and all ways I can.'

The answer seemed not to have the desired effect of driving the attempts of the two girls away, but instead made them sigh wistfully, and Harry could have sworn he saw tiny red hearts floating both around their heads and in their eyes, but dismissed it as having seen too many cartoons in secret as a child, and nervousness for the task he was about to face.

Not long into the wait, a magnified voice boomed out.

'Would Samantha Johnson please come out,' the magnified voice of Dumbledore rung through the area, easily penetrating the walls and doors of the Quidditch pitch.

Sam growled at the full use of her name, but complied with the order, preparing her wand and walking out the door leading to the pitch, head held high and with the pace of a condemned walking to the gallows.

A boom of cheers exploded as soon as the door closed, welcoming the girl.

Harry shared a look with his fellow champions, and they nervously waited. A plane of glass lit up on the wall, showing a rocky mountain region within the Quidditch pitch. A large purple beast was grazing on some patches of grass, horns sticking from its head, and its rocky hide looking very tough, more so than Harry thought himself able to cut through with his blades. The powerful muscles under said hide also told him that stealth and speed was of utmost importance in this task.

Sam's name was written along the bottom left of the glass, just as her tiny figure became visible over the ridge of rock. Compared to the Graphorn, Sam wouldn't even reach the thing's knees. There was no sound, even from the stands, as the crowds – who filled even the additional rows in the stands, added for this Championship – were too excited about what the American champion was going to do.

The four watched as Sam started hunching over, sneaking her way across the mountain terrain. She was amateurish in her performance, but she went unnoticed by the huge beast, until she yelled out a quick succession of carving spells that created a small triangle wound at the Graphorn's shoulder. A summoning charm tore the patch of hide from its body, and was caught by Sam, who nearly dropped it in repulsion.

The Graphorn was not about to let this deed go unpunished, and charged at the blonde, who stood rooted to the ground in fear.

The American blonde was lobbed by the head of the beast into the air, and would have flown out of the pitch if not for the protective barrier that had been erected around it to contain anything inside.

Hagrid and Grawp were quickly on the pitch, restraining the large being while a small squadron of wizards trooped onto the pitch to stun the Graphorn.

There was a breathless silence as madam Pomfrey raced to where Sam had crashed into the ground. The silence grew deafening as the nurse examined the girl, and a roar of triumph rose from the stands as the witch stood up and gave a positive gesture at the teacher's box.

The numbers; five – six – four – five – five twenty-five, appeared on the glass, tallying up Sam's score.

The name and numbers moved and shrank up to the top right corner, where the small numbers vanished, leaving only the name and total score.

Another shrieking roar went out across the area as another Graphorn was released into the mountain area, just as the last person vacated the pitch.

'Would Bruce Cooper please come out,' boomed Dumbledore's voice.

Bruce bounced out of his seat and raced out the door, screaming his personal war-cry, which was promptly drowned out by the roaring salutation of the audience.

Bruce's name appeared on the bottom left corner of the glass, and his figure came racing over the top of the large rocks, abandoning all pretence of stealth in favour of surprise.

The crazy Australian actually managed to run right up to the Graphorn and mount it, clinging to its horned head as it bucked like a bronco across the stone terrain. The boy waved with his bandana and looked like he was having a very great time, riding on the huge beast. After a moment, he imitated Sam and carved a relatively small piece of hide from the beast's shoulders. Unfortunately, this was the last straw for the Graphorn, and it managed to dislodge Bruce, flinging him straight into the air to crash directly onto rocky ground, where the Graphorn started trying to trample the boy, if not for the quick reaction of Hagrid and Grawp, who rushed onto the pitch and held the creature down and away from Bruce while the twenty – or so – wizards came to stun it and madam Pomfrey rushed out to examine the boy for how many injuries he had.

After a series of tests had been preformed – the same one Harry had been exposed to during the most recent weighing of the wands was used as well and it lit up red nearly all over– the matron made the same positive gesture, but was a bit hastier in getting the boy off the pitch than she had been with Sam.

The numbers; six – six – five – seven – five twenty-nine, appeared like it had with Sam.

Bruce's name and total score ended up above Sam's, the numbers one through five appeared in front of their names, displaying their current position in the race for points.

Harry stood, knowing he would be called upon next, and got everything ready.

'Harry Potter, please enter the pitch,' boomed Dumbledore's magnified voice.

Harry took a calming breath and walked to the door, bracing himself for the task ahead, and hoping his strategy – developed over the two previous champions' performance – would get him through this in one piece. Hermione was sure never to forgive him if he injured himself in any way.

He opened the door he had walked through countless times in the past, either for training or for a Quidditch match. This time it was something more dangerous than any Quidditch match could ever be. He was about to face a beast that giants could have trouble dealing with, all alone. He consoled himself with the fact that it didn't breathe fire, or he'd have to be even more cautious. As it stood, he was about to face several tons of muscle, rock like hide and horns nearly as hard as diamonds.

The cheering from the crowds forced itself over Harry like a wall of water, arriving just as sudden as any sneak attack he had staged in the labyrinth he set up every night before his DA was allowed to leave the meeting. He stood still for nearly two full minutes before the noise died down. Harry suspected a silencing charm was being erected around the pitch to achieve this end.

He remembered how Sam and Bruce had gone about things, and made himself a mental map of the area by pushing his magic out around him and having it bounce back like a sonar or radar, allowing him to see any movement within the area. This was a very recent discovery Harry had made during the labyrinth part of a DA meeting. He had been surprised and sprayed in the face by something than blinded him and burned – he later realised it was pepper spray – and he had sent out his magic to try and knock the target back, but succeeded instead in receiving images of the world around him, allowing him to react accordingly when he saw the student that had sprayed him try and knock him unconscious – a goal many had set for themselves after Harry had started the training. That student had been more than stunned when Harry managed to find out where he was about to hit, and dodge and counter appropriately, resulting in a mild bashing. Harry did not realise how similar his recently discovered ability was to that of a certain blind comic book hero, nor would he agree if he was told.

The Graphorn had calmed down from the noise and herding, and was sniffing some patches of grass not too far off, probably smelling the scent of the two other Graphorns that had been there within the hour. It was naturally weary as there was a scent of fear and blood in the air, something humans can normally only pick up on where there are heavy concentrations of both. Harry was by no means normal, as his Animagus form left some senses in his human form, allowing him better senses than even an untrained werewolf.

Deciding to be as stealthy as possible, Harry shifted forms, and stood as he had about a year ago, as the werebeast like creature. There were few shadows to hide in, but Harry managed to find some, and manipulated them to suit his means. To those who were watching, it appeared as though Harry crawled into a hole in the ground, and that the small hole was slowly moving. This was not so, as Harry was physically moving a shadow from within, slowly creeping up on the giant beast that was unaware of Harry's proximity. He was nearly under the beast when he struck, sending twin horizontal cutting hexes at the Graphorn, both hitting with nearly four feet between them, tearing great gashes along the shoulder of the beast.

The Graphorn, unable to determine where this unprovoked attack came from, started to panic, and ran in a random direction, screeching wildly in fear, agony and confusion. After a moment, Harry sent another dual curse, slicing the hide vertically, nearly seven feet between them, crossing paths with the other two cuts, creating a surface piece at six and a half foot times four, which fell out at the violent movements the terrified Graphorn was making. Harry winced as he saw a great deal of exposed muscles and tendons, and trickling blood. He imagined being partially skinned alive would be slightly more painful than having ones bones regrown, but less painful than the Cruciatus curse, two things he was fairly certain the Graphorn had never experienced.

He returned to the here and now, and noticed that the Graphorn was still moving in panic. As not to spoil the hide by having the Graphorn trample it, Harry summoned it to him, stepping out of the shadow.

The Graphorn spotted its tormentor, and started its rampaging charge for revenge. Harry expected as much, and in return raced at the thing, defying the thing's logic, and scaring the wits off more than half of the audience Harry had half forgotten he had. He didn't dare try to stop it physically, as a Graphorn was heavier than even uncle Vernon's car, and while it was charging, reached speeds of nearly fifty miles per hour, equalling more than Harry thought he could handle even on a good day, and those horns looked very nasty.

With a mighty leap, Harry landed on the hunched back of the Graphorn and ran onwards, landing behind it as the beast continued onward directly into a large boulder. Not much damage was done to the Graphorn, but the boulder was reduced to a heap of pebbles. The Graphorn shook its head and was about to charge at Harry again when Grawp and Hagrid weighed it down together, quickly followed by the score of wizards that then stunned the beast.

Madam Pomfrey charged out onto the pitch to examine Harry for injury, and was stunned to find her most frequent patient back in the form he had been stuck in for over half a year. And seemingly without a scratch at that.

Harry noticed his state and shifted back, muttering some cleaning charms and banishing charms on the unwanted parts of his hide.

'And the results!' boomed Dumbledore's voice, suddenly breaking the silence that had existed, and allowing the cheers of the audience to be heard once more. Harry looked up to see all five headmasters and headmistresses raise their wands, and ribbons shooting out, forming the numbers; seven, six, eight, nine and seven, totalling at thirty-seven.

Any comment from Harry was cut short as he was bowled over by a worried girlfriend who alternated between yelling at him for being so reckless, and congratulating him on his score as well as affirming her affection for him. Kisses alternated with shakes and sharp fingers in the chest and back again.

'You two had better vacate the pitch now,' recommended madam Pomfrey, seemingly satisfied with Harry's state of health, 'they will start the next round any moment now.'

Harry nodded and stood, Hermione following his movements as they strode off the pitch.

'Don't you scare me like that again,' Hermione added as soon as they were off.

Smiling at the affection he could feel, Harry picked a spot with a good view of the Quidditch pitch, and sat down, Hermione joining him, and started doing a more thorough job of cleaning the hide of blood and other nasty things. He doubted that what the hide would be used for would require it being in the exact state it had been in when torn from the body. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the stench from the hide vanished with the remainders of the blood and gore, not even aware of doing so.

Together, they watched as Ngame entered the pitch, to an explosion of cheers, as with all the others. From this side, Harry could hear more clearly the gasps and screams of the audience as Ngame tried a less advanced method of the one Harry used, sneaking about and slashing off a piece of the Graphorn's hide.

It appeared to work to a degree, until the boy stepped out of the shadows he had been hiding in and the Graphorn rammed into him. Not much damage was done to the hunter, but something caused the boy to hug himself. If Harry recognised the symptoms, he would say that the boy had a broken rib, or maybe more … nothing madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to fix within the night.

The boy was given the score; six, seven, six, six, five, a total of thirty.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to arrive at the injured boy's side, and dragged him off the pitch, giving a signal to the teachers' box that Ngame was not mortally wounded.

Harry folded the leather into a thick bundle and laid it beside him as he watched Hagrid and Grawp release the next and final Graphorn.

Hermione had by now calmed down and was just sitting close to Harry for assurance of his health. Her head was pressed against his chest, letting her hear his heart, while Harry's arm encircled her shoulders. He liked sitting like this, it was intimate and – in a manner of speaking – romantic, had the setting been a different one. He wasn't very used with displays of affection from his childhood, he actually disliked physical contact as the only ones he was given as a child was meant as punishment, but Hermione had managed to get him comfortable with her presence and enjoy her close proximity.

Kasumi walked out onto the pitch, and Harry could tell that the girl was very nervous, as they all had been.

Having watched the amount of success that Harry and Ngame had, she also hid herself from view as she cut into the Graphorn with cutting hexes.

However, this was where her luck ran out, as the Graphorn discovered its torturer when she came out of hiding to summon the hide to her, and it charged not long after.

Harry watched as Kasumi froze and was gored through her stomach by the huge beast, before she was lobbed towards the exit of the pitch, making her crash into both the barrier and ground.

Hagrid and Grawp were very soon upon the beast, and madam Pomfrey was even quicker upon her newest patient. After a few spells, the matron raised her arm in a positive gesture at the teachers' box, where the ribbons now shot out to form the numbers; five, five, four, six, and seven, totalling at twenty-seven.

Thus far, Harry had managed to get in the lead. He hoped he was not marked up for his previous fame, but he was slightly pleased, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Hermione gave a girlish squeal and tried to squeeze him in half, congratulating him and warning him to be more careful during the next task. The threat held above his head was a week of non-intimacy. Now that Harry had nearly become dependent on that intimacy, a week was likely to drive him around the bend and give him withdrawal symptoms. Harry wondered if madam Pomfrey managed to heal aching hearts of the emotional kind, but decided it would involve far too much work for her to do so. He planned on giving the matron a year off from him, even if he had to forfeit his position as champion in this championship to do it … too often had he heard muttered comments about taking up far too much of her time as he lay in her hospital wing.

'The champions are asked to clean the hides they collected, and keep them safe for later use,' declared Dumbledore. 'That has been it for now, the next task will be the day before Christmas, followed by a Yule ball. Have a nice day, and fare well to all you who travelled far and wide to witness this event.'

* * *

Over the course of the following weeks, Hermione became gradually more possessive, though she didn't try to be so in the open. Whenever Harry had a free moment out of his tight schedule, she tried to occupy it and kept him out of sight of other girls, studying for the NEWTs was the most often used excuse – obviously the choice in telling her about the suspected ideas the female champions might have was a bad one as she was too insecure about herself to think she could compete, and instead tried to keep Harry alone. Harry had time and again told her that he loved her and would never stop doing so, and was starting to wonder if he should hurry up his proposal plans to put an end to this insecurity.

The DA was advancing nicely, the newest members having fully adapted to the hectic schedule, and all were looking forward to kicking the Duelling Club's behinds at the end of the year.

Bruce and Ngame joined the morning exorcises with the DA, finding the game of Dodge ball very enjoyable when played against as agile opponents as the DA were becoming. Bruce had recovered nicely from his severe injuries, having spent two weeks in the hospital wing and another two weeks on crutches. Ngame had spent three days and nights in the hospital wing before madam Pomfrey let him go. Unfortunately for the boy, he wasn't as persistent about leaving as Harry normally was, and was very obedient where the matron was concerned.

Harry had formally and officially asked Hermione to be his partner for the Yule ball, both to halt any unwanted suitors and to assure Hermione that he still wished to be with her. He felt that he shouldn't take it for granted than Hermione would be his partner just because she was his girlfriend, and made sure to express his belief as he asked.

Snow fell during the second week of November, and steadily increased in thickness.

A Hogsmeade weekend was held with no warning whatsoever, to make sure no one knew about the dates in advance. However, Harry thought it a good time not only to restock his supplies, but also spend some time with Hermione in a romantic setting. As he led Hermione into Madam Puddifoot's for some tea and scones, he could have sworn he saw Luna drag Ron into the bookshop.

The Hogsmeade weekend had calmed Hermione's fears somewhat, but Harry could tell she was not completely over it.

He had caught her eating less at meals, and confronted her about it. She had wanted to go on a diet, so she wouldn't seem as chubby ('I already eat enough for two,' she had sulkily admitted). Harry argued that she ate as much because of the near constant activity she kept her body in, and that he didn't want her to go on a diet. ('I don't want you, or anyone I know, to know what it feels like to go around hungry when there was enough food around,' he had debated heatedly, referring to his childhood at the Dursleys.) Hermione had given in after a while, and gone back to eating her normal amount, but made certain that it was not all fat and un-nutritional items.

The day of the task arrived sooner than Harry had thought, yet again, and one morning he was shepherded down to the Quidditch pitch with the other champions. A path had been made from the castle to the Quidditch pitch, allowing people to walk to and fro with dry feet.

Once more, Harry found himself in the locker room with four other people, waiting as they heard the stands being filled. It sounded like there were more people there now than last time, which in itself was a frightening thought to the champions, although they all did their best to hide their fears.

It was nearly half an hour later that the headmasters and headmistresses entered, accompanied once more by Cornelius Fudge and two Aurors. Harry caught a glimpse of the pitch before the door closed, and saw a dense jungle instead of a mountain. The jungle didn't look too different from the one the DA had battled the Duelling Club in last year.

'Welcome back,' greeted Dumbledore jovially. 'You will be facing a nest of Occamy today. My reason for being so blunt is so my introduction would not be interrupted, as I was during the last task …' here he directed a look at the Minister for Magic. 'Anyway, in the middle of the Occamy nest, there are five items, all identical to the others. You must obtain one of those items for yourself to finish the task. If you take more than one item, you will automatically forfeit this task, and not be allowed to continue, do I make myself clear?'

All the five teens nodded solemnly, knowing the consequences of cheating.

'Headmaster,' added Harry when he saw the group was about to leave, 'what is the item and what do we need it for?'

Dumbledore smiled one of his mystical yet infuriatingly innocent smiles.

'You will recognise it as a silver bridle, more than that you will have to figure out for yourselves.'

The adults left them without announcing the order of events, making the teens even more nervous.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the plane of glass flickered to life again, the five names along the upper right corner in order of position, with Harry in the lead. Sam hadn't seen this before and was shaken to hear her name being called up as the first champion to enter, again.

The cheering was now only heard through the ceiling, which was directly under the stands, meaning that Dumbledore and the other headmasters and headmistresses had decided too much noise on the pitch could lead to disaster with the various dangerous creatures if they were startled. The glass showed a dense forest with a pit in the middle, where writhing forms could be seen as heat signatures. Sam was crashing through the jungle, not ready for the dangers of the terrain or the creatures she was facing.

Harry could see Sam blunder through the thickets with all the grace of a drugged elephant in a small tea shop.

'That's just insane,' he commented. 'The Occamy will feel her coming long before she sees them.'

Ngame came up beside him. 'Indeed,' he agreed in a low rumble. Harry could see his lips move out of synch with the word. A subtle clue to the translation spells in use. 'When hunting, one should never let the prey know it is being hunted.'

'A difficult feat with a winged and legged reptile that has a natural ability for Legilimency and Occlumency,' Harry agreed.

Sam arrived at the edge of the clearing that the pit was in the middle of, and found herself facing hissing creatures that were rearing their heads in threatening gestures. As they were out of hearing range there was no sound, but it wasn't hard to imagine how the creatures would react. Because of this, they didn't hear the spell used, but the effects were that there was a large explosion that blew away some portions of the foliage, and removing the need for heat vision. None of the Occamy were killed, but were temporarily scattered.

While the Occamy were gathering themselves from the explosion, Sam raced into the centre of the nest and grabbed onto the first flicker of silver she saw, getting halted only momentarily from the very large size of the bridle she was holding on to before she used levitation charms and ran as quick as she could.

As soon as she cleared the trees, her score was given as the wizards that were there to restrain the Occamy did their jobs.

Five, four, six, four and three were her points, taking her in the lead with a total of forty-seven.

Madam Pomfrey came onto the pitch and started her examinations, now exposing yet another champion to the humiliation of the health check spell. Quite a few snapped photographs of the scene for later enjoyment.

Sam's headmaster was ready to keep her bridle safe until it was needed, and guided his student off the pitch as soon as madam Pomfrey agreed.

Bruce came next, having been the second-to-last in points.

The madman had decided on his usual method of handling things, namely run in head-first.

While the Occamy seemed prepared for enemies, they were clearly not expecting some human to dive into their nest without a fear in the world, grabbing a piece of silver from the ground as the serpents struck, biting non-toxic bites at all areas they could reach. Bruce managed to get out of the jungle, but madam Pomfrey pulled him along to the hospital wing without stopping to test him, as he was clearly only suffering from blood loss and the countless scratches and cuts caused by hundreds of teeth and clawed feet.

Harry could only shake his head at the foolhardy boy. What was he thinking rushing into a nest of dangerous creatures like that?

The boy was given the points; six, seven, five, six and six, totalling at fifty-nine. His headmistress was obviously not pleased with having to handle his bridle, but put up with it.

Kasumi put up a better show, actually showing some ingenuity by casting a quick succession of levitation charms on the Occamy, before walking in and grabbing the bridle. She forgot, however, that the Occamy had wings, and was surprised by the Occamy swarming her. She was quick enough to run away before being damaged severely. Even madam Pomfrey seemed to think her in fine enough shape to walk off on her own. Headmistress Saijin graciously brought the bridle with her, looking as elegant as ever.

Kasumi was given the points; seven, six, five, six and eight, totalling at fifty-nine, and a joint first place with Bruce.

Ngame learned from his opponents' mistakes, and snuck through the jungle as though he had done nothing else in his life, and knew this jungle like the back of his hand. The Occamy still knew he was present, but were merely mindful, watching for any sudden move as an excuse to attack.

A few quick transfiguration spells later, and a small army of simians charge into the nest and through.

The Occamy, seeing a choice meal just run past forgot all about the human lurking about, and set off after the small mammals.

While this went on, Ngame snuck into the nest and stole away the nearest bridle, escaping with only a scrape across his face from a protruding twig he had not seen.

Madam Pomfrey was happy to see a relatively unharmed champion, and Harry could make out the mutterings of "crazy old coots" and "total disregard for safety" through the glass.

Ngame was given the points; seven, six, eight, five and six, totalling at sixty-two, and placing him in the lead.

Harry didn't have to be told that it was now his turn, and got up from where he had sat down while watching the others.

While watching, Harry had realised that these were serpents, and might be more cooperative if they were approached politely by someone who spoke their language.

Harry stepped out of the locker room and into a jungle. The heat was very credible to the native lands of the Occamy, and Harry had to remove his shirt to keep it from getting soaked from the sudden bout of sweat. Hermione could hardly blame him for not wanting to boil inside out.

Hearing the complaining hisses from the Occamy, Harry knew where to go, and made sure to use all methods of stealth he knew of not to be detected. The Occamy would most likely attack first and ask questions later if he was detected.

'Nassty humanss,' he heard from the nest, 'sstirring up all thiss messss with uss.'

'Why can't they leave uss alone?' agreed another. 'We are alwayss bothered. They ssteal our eggss, and now they want uss to ssit guard for them while their young ssteal what we are to be guarding!'

'Not all humans are bad,' Harry hissed into the nest, throwing his voice so it would seem to come from a different direction.

'Who sspeaks?' demanded the Occamy as a whole.

'I do,' admitted Harry and came out of the thickets, and seated himself on the edge of the pit. 'And I mean you no harm.'

'A Sspeaker!' chorused the Occamy, 'What bussinessss have you, Sspeaker, with uss?'

'I came to claim the last of the silver bridles,' Harry confessed nonchalantly. 'But don't worry, you will not be punished for allowing me to take it, this is merely part of a test in a competition.'

'Sso, wizardss think it amussing to torture and taunt innocent sserpentss?' asked a particularly large Occamy.

'Not at all,' interrupted Harry, 'the others were merely ignorant about your intellect, and fear things with scales. I'm not all that frightened, and as I can converse with you …'

'Hmm …' the Occamy paused. 'Very sskilled, you are, Sspeaker, in sshielding your mind. We sstill know you are hiding ssomething … a passt ssin againsst sserpent kind perhapss?'

Harry blanched.

'I have killed one serpent in my time,' he admitted. 'But in my own defence, the basilisk was attacking me at the time, and all I had to defend myself was a sword. I would have died from the venom it managed to inject into me, but a last minute intervention prevented that.'

'Thiss iss true,' agreed the Occamy. 'And a great sservice you performed ass well, bassilisskss are a perverssion of sserpentss everywhere and have no resspect for the old code. No sserpent iss to harm a Sspeaker, even if it goess againsst a direct order or threat.'

Harry cautiously lowered himself into the nest. 'Then, would you mind if I were to take the remaining silver bridle?'

'Take it, Sspeaker,' hissed another Occamy. 'We cannot harm you, nor do we wish to.'

'Thank you,' said Harry and stepped forward, grabbing hold of the bridle, finding it surprisingly light for something made of silver. 'I will see if there is anything I can do about your living conditions.' He added. 'Would you mind if wizards only approached your eggs after they had hatched?'

'That would be ssplendid, Sspeaker, but we will not hold you to ssuch a promisse, ass humanss tend to forget ssuch thingss.'

Harry nodded, knowing how many wizards thought of snakes and the ilk.

'Thank you for your cooperation,' he stated seriously as he came over the edge of the pit.

'Fare well, Sspeaker.'

Harry was met with deafening silence as he came out of the line of trees. He hadn't expected a deafening roar of applause through the silencing charms, but he could see that everyone were stunned silent, even the wizards standing along the edge of the pitch were silent, their jaws hanging limply.

Hermione was the only one who didn't seem affected, and was racing onto the pitch, wrapping herself around Harry in a hug.

The bridle fell to the ground as Harry returned the hug.

Neither of them saw the score.

A polite cough interrupted their reunion, and the two turned to face Dumbledore, although Hermione still had er limbs wrapped about Harry, showing no intention of letting go for the moment.

'Well done, Harry, and not a single scratch to boot,' the old wizard chuckled. 'I'll keep the bridle safe until the appropriate moment, if you have no objections.'

'By all means, professor,' said Harry and indicated the bridle on the ground. 'Although I have a request.'

'Speak up, then, Harry … what is this request?'

'The Occamy were complaining about their condition,' said Harry, 'and I hoped they could be improved.'

'If you compose a list of demands, I will have a look at it and see what can be done,' said Dumbledore. 'I can make no promises, though.'

'The list will be on your desk in the morning,' assured Harry.

'Very well, now, I think it is time you went to the castle and got changed, the Yule ball starts in three hours.'

Hermione had barely let the man finish before dropping to the ground and setting off for the castle with Harry in tow. Her mad dash was not halted by the vast amounts of snow that covered the grounds, nor did the distance, as she did not stop until she was in the Gryffindor Head common room. Harry nearly fell over when he was left to stand on his own, and from the sudden deceleration.

As soon as he regained his balance, Harry realised that Hermione wanted to get ready for the event that was about to take place, and decided to spend the next couple of hours in conversation with his mother, or possibly experiment with some more with his spell.

He was about to check the time when he accidentally scratched the formulae for his spell with some ink, and produced a different result entirely if the spell was cast. Harry had luckily copied the original before sitting down with this one, in case he made an error, and did not lose months of study. However, the result was interesting. While different from the intended spell, this could be of some use against dark creatures.

Harry tested the spell quickly.

'_Caritas Arma_!' he intoned, thrusting his hand forward like he was stabbing something with a sword.

Light flickered from his hand, and a sword not unlike Gryffindor's sword grew from it, although there was no colour, only white. The glowing weapon stayed in his hand, feeding off his good emotions like the Patronus did. Maybe this would make it possible to kill a dementor if Voldemort managed to Summon some.

He dispelled the weapon and repeated the spell, imagining a different weapon.

It worked perfectly.

Every weapon he was imagining at the moment he was uttering or thinking the spell became manifested in his hands.

He was ready to jump and dance special jigs in glee at his success when Hermione knocked on his bathroom door, and called that the bathroom was ready for him now. He looked at the time and saw he had half an hour left before he and the other champions were to meet in front of the Great Hall.

Harry had a hurried shower, praising magic for not running out of warm water like Muggles do, and dressed in his finest robes, which happened to be a pair Hermione had selected for him the last time they were in Diagon Alley nearly two weeks before start of term. It was dark green with black trimming, and silver stitching to make the shapes of various protective runes and magical animals. Underneath he wore a black shirt and black trousers.

He gave up on his hair, knowing it behaved the way it wanted, and went out into the common room he shared only with Hermione to wait for her.

Ten minutes later saw Harry getting nervous, as they now only had five minutes to get through the castle.

He was about to tear Hermione's door off its hinges when it opened and Hermione stepped out.

Had it not been for the bluish colour, Harry would have thought he was staring at an angel in a simple silken wedding dress. Her normally adorably bushy hair, which she had taken to putting into a pony tail, was pinned up into a chignon that was very decorative, and it was nearly unfathomable that one person could manage that task on her own. She was wearing silken gloves that went up her bare arms, ending just above the elbow, a nearly invisible pocket was sown into the forearm of it, where her wand was stowed. Her face was beaming, clearly satisfied –nay, thrilled – with the reaction she got from Harry.

Harry was so stunned at the transformation that he momentarily forgot all about his good news with the spell.

Hermione giggled girlishly and took hold of Harry's elbow, subtly urging him into action.

Harry snapped from his daze and noticed their close proximity.

'You could put angels to shame, looking so beautiful,' he breathed without realising he said it aloud. She blushed deeply through the modest amount of make up, making Harry realise he had said it.

'You're exaggerating,' she muttered modestly.

'No,' argued Harry. 'Quite the opposite, actually. I can't find a better comparison than that.'

Hermione simply blushed and chose not to reply to this claim. Together they descended the boys' staircase, as it was the only one they could both step on without sliding down a stone slide in their fine clothing.

Harry beamed with pride as he led Hermione through the common room, and out the portrait, and through all the hallways and passages he knew. He was aware of some students stopping to stare after them, and was proud that he had the most beautiful young woman in the world on his arm.

* * *

In the Entrance Hall, a colourful throng of people were gathered and waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to open.

Harry spotted Malfoy and Parkinson together, although Parkinson was practically wrapped onto his arm with all her limbs, her pug like face scowling at any witch that as much as dared to watch in Malfoy's direction. Crabbe and Goyle were flanking the pair, wearing the same dress robes they had the last time there was a Yule ball at Hogwarts, they were also mysteriously absent of a partner. Bullstrode was on the arm of the charming Miss Zabini, forming an odd couple, like the younger and female version of Laurel & Hardy.

Further down the hall Harry saw Ron being cornered by Luna, who had foregone her normal attire and accessories for a pure white dress robe with white flowers braided into a necklace and one to form a tiara of sorts. Ron was wearing deep red dress robes with gold trimming, apparently the twins had remembered their agreement.

As soon as Harry and Hermione became visible, the crowds parted like the red sea before Moses to let them across to the doors where the other champions and their partners were waiting with the teachers, headmasters and headmistresses.

'Mr Potter,' stated professor McGonagall, who was directing the champions, 'you and Miss Granger will be standing here,' she led the two to the right door as it opened, Ngame and Padma Patil stood on one side of them, Sam on the other. On the opposing door, Sam's partner was facing her, next to Kasumi and a stern looking fellow from her own school, and Bruce who had managed to talk his way out of the hospital wing and was accompanied by Lavender Brown.

With that, the Yule Ball was officially opened, and the students and carefully security-checked guests flooded into the Great Hall, past the champions, their partners and the present staff of the schools.

When all had passed, the champions were allowed to escort, or be escorted by, their partners inside. The hall was even bigger than it had been when the guest schools arrived, and banners from each of the five schools adorned the walls, along with banners from various clubs in those schools. The arch shaped table at the very end of the hall was meant for the champions and staff, and the statue of Hermione was placed facing the apex of the arch. The rest of the tables were small intimate and round, seating six at the most. A raised platform in the middle of the hall was meant for dancing, and another along the wall was filled with instruments but no band. Along the walls, bushes of roses were planted, all blooming beautifully.

As Harry leads Hermione to her seat, he can't help but notice that Rita Skeeter was sitting at a table very close to them, her Quick Quotes Quill and parchment at the ready, and her photographer standing in his seat, snapping shots all around to make sure that the editor of the paper had a few scenery photographs to choose from.

After everyone had found their seats, Dumbledore stood.

'Welcome everyone, to the Yule Ball held in arrangement with the World Wizarding Championship,' the headmaster opened. 'This event will last until eleven o'clock, as a great deal of our students will be departing for home in the morning, to spend time with their families over the Christmas holidays. Instructions for ordering a meal can be found at the bottom of the menus at every table, for those who need them, that is. There will be dancing during the night, but at no set times, so if you feel like dancing when the music strikes after I finish this speech, let the mood be your guide between choices. Let the festivities begin!'

The instruments on the platform raised themselves into the air and started playing of their own accord, and excited chatter broke out.

Harry saw Hermione huff slightly at the abuse of house-elves, but she remained silent.

Harry surprised most present by ordering relatively simple meals for himself and Hermione, knowing it would be less work for the two house-elves that were most likely waiting eagerly for instructions. Dobby and Winky had done an excellent job of not being seen this year, and Harry knew they were doing their best.

Both Harry and Hermione ignored the reporter that was sitting tensely and listening with baited breath for anything Harry had to say to Hermione and vice versa. To this end, the two conversed in a large mix of languages and in hushed tones.

Hermione was very excited about Harry's spell and demanded he show her as soon as the ball was finished. She revealed that she had also had a minor amount of success with her own invention. Judging from the intrigued face Dumbledore was hiding behind his beard and fork, the old coot understood every word they were saying despite the frequent language switch.

The attempts to capture his attention by Sam and Kasumi were ignored, or at least they were when he could get away with it, however voiced questions and such were more difficult to avoid, as it would be downright rude, as opposed to ignoring winks and blown kisses.

Harry was surprised to find Fleur Delacour present, with her fiancée Bill Weasley.

The two female champions seemed to be too stunned by Harry knowing a veela and not being affected by her to do anything but stare. Had they known that Harry was an unofficial master at Occlumency, they would not have found it so strange, but the art of Occlumency was very obscure so it wasn't even certain they had heard of it.

Harry was surprised to find that the wedding was set for immediately after school this year, so they could hold the ceremony quickly without having to worry about attacks before the honeymoon. They had also postponed it for this long so all the family, including Harry and Hermione, could be present. Harry made a mental memo to himself to keep his barriers up at full strength during the ceremony, as Fleur's mother and sister were sure to be there as well, making two quarter veela and one half, one of which would have no control, over her charms because of inexperience.

Not long after they had eaten, Harry stood from his seat and bowed to Hermione.

'Would you allow me the honour of having this dance?' he asked, holding out his hand hopefully.

Hermione smiled, dabbed her lips on a napkin and accepted his hand.

Returning the smile, Harry moved the hand up to his elbow and guided her to the raised platform, where one or two elder couples were dancing to the slow but beautiful music, which ended by the time the younger couple arrived, to be replaced by another of its kind.

As they stepped onto the platform, Harry gently pulled Hermione closer and swung her around to face him, wrapping one arm about her waist and wrapping his other hand with her opposing one. They waited for a few bars before finding an appropriate place to start dancing.

Neither noticed the hundreds of eyes that followed their every graceful movement as they slowly and smoothly twirled on the raised platform, in perfect synchronisation with each other and the beat the music followed.

The two of them stared into the other's eyes. They didn't speak, as their eyes did all their speaking for them. Ever since Hermione had made her intentions about him clear, Harry had started believing in the old saying; "the eyes are the windows of the soul", because whenever he looked into Hermione's eyes, they spoke of love that could not be broken, insecurity in herself which was covered up by her bookish front, and hope in the future, that everything would turn out fine.

Harry stared into the eyes of the woman he loved, seeing the same emotions play out, but because of their current activity and place the insecurity was dampened. So lost was he in those eyes that he never noticed their lips meeting and their eyes closing, all that mattered was the woman in his arms, and her safety.

The sudden explosion of wolf-calls and applause caused the two to part lips and look around with a blush as they realised they weren't alone.

The minuet ended precisely then, and the two bowed and curtsied respectively in thanks for the applause before returning to their seats. Harry saw that the two female champions were glaring daggers at Hermione, yet trying to hide it from Harry with pouting looks in his direction and clearly meant he should take them dancing next, ignoring their own partners for the moment.

As the next tune struck up, Harry saw Luna dragging a blushing Ron up to the dancing area, an airy expression in place as usual. It was also unfortunate that Luna didn't seem to mind continuing the dancing even as the music died down for a moment, seemingly content to twirl in Ron's arms – to his discomfort. He could see that Ron tried to persuade her to return to their seats without him or her causing a scene.

Neville had become lighter on his feet, and Ginny was not wincing nearly as much as she did when she danced with him during the last Yule ball. Harry saw that she was very happy about her dance partner.

The rest of the evening passed without much happening, other than the two female champions giving up on their pursuit for now.

Harry spent most of the time conversing with Hermione in a multitude of languages, while gauging Dumbledore's expression to see how much of it he understood. After having gone through a score of languages, they came to the conclusion that Dumbledore had made friends enough with the merpeople to be given the same spell they had, and that they needed to speak with him concerning what they were sure he had heard.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning, Harry woke with a start as he felt something was wrong.

He didn't know what, but threw off his duvet and ran through his bathroom door and burst through Hermione's like it was really made of wet paper instead of enchanted wood, not caring where the wooden debris fell as he neared Hermione who was thrashing in her sleep.

Before the last splinter had fallen, Harry had gathered Hermione into his arms and was gently rousing her.

Hermione's eyes shot open and she quickly realised whom it was that was holding her before she started crying and clinging to him.

Harry didn't hesitate in tightening his hold on her, and started whispering encouraging words to her, even kissing the side or top of her head at random intervals.

After some minutes, Hermione's sobs were reduced to hiccoughs and sniffles. Harry held her closely without showing signs of ending it.

Hermione eventually lifted her head and kissed Harry's cheek before starting to nuzzle into him and doze off again.

Harry was relishing in the warmth of her presence, and didn't really care if his shoulder was wet with tears as long as the one shedding them had stopped. He was too preoccupied with the delicious feeling of closeness to realise that neither of them were wearing much in the way of clothing. This wonderful feeling also caused Harry to feel sleepy, and he surrendered himself to the feeling, reclining on Hermione's bed with her still in his arms.

This was heaven as far as Harry was concerned. Laying in a warm bed with the love of his life snuggled comfortably into his side.

However, this is Harry Potter, and he hardly ever gets a chance to enjoy things before he was torn away from them.

'MR POTTER! MISS GRANGER!'

The outraged cry of their Head of House roused both teens enough to take in the carnage Harry had caused in breaking down the door, and the near purple colour professor McGonagall was turning.

'EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!' the deputy headmistress demanded, being uncharacteristically loud.

Hermione quickly realised their state of dress and pulled the duvet up to cover her chest.

'Hermione had a nightmare,' said Harry, completely unfazed by the steaming teacher. 'I came to comfort her, and fell asleep with her. Nothing carnal happened and we would not mind being tested to prove so.'

The calm tone Harry used must have placated the teacher, as her face went from purple to red, and her lips reappeared from where they had vanished in a thin line after her angry yell.

'Then at least put some clothes on, Mr Potter, and clean up the mess you made, professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office, the password is Ice Mice,' sniffed McGonagall.

Harry hopped out of the bed after pecking Hermione's cheek, not really caring if he only wore one article of clothing to sleep and that he was in perfect view of his Head of House. He walked calmly through the bathroom, picked up his wand and flicked it at the splinters that littered Hermione's dorm, making them vanish as they were destroyed too much to be repaired unless the person doing it was willing to spend a week with a vat of glue and the millions of splinters in an attempt at piecing the thing together – something Harry wasn't very keen on doing.

Harry wasn't certain about when McGonagall left, but she was not present when he emerged from his dorm fully dressed for training, meeting Hermione in a similar state in their common room.

Hermione took Harry's hand in hers and pulled him along.

It was earlier than they were up normally, so there was not any hurry to get to the Room of Requirements before the others arrived. This meant that they could take their time speaking with professor Dumbledore, most likely about their conversation during the Yule ball.

At the gargoyle, Hermione gave the password.

The gargoyle leapt out of the way, and revealed the spiralling staircase, which the pair ascended.

'Enter, Harry, Miss Granger,' they heard through the door as they reached the top.

'You wanted to see us, headmaster,' said Harry.

'Indeed,' confirmed Dumbledore. 'Have a seat. I thought it prudent to converse with you about the topics the two of you discussed last night. But first, I understand that Minerva found the pair of you in Miss Granger's bed this morning … you both realise, of course, that this is a serious matter.'

Harry leap into the conversation. 'That only applies if one of the two parties disagrees,' memorising the handbook wasn't such a bad idea. 'And there has not been set precedence for this kind of situation yet, so the rules cannot apply.'

Dumbledore smiled his merry smile.

'I assumed you would point that out, Harry,' he chuckled. Hermione was uncertain about how to feel at the moment. Frightened at the thought of being expelled for being caught in bed with a boy. Awed and outraged at said boy's audacity at arguing with the headmaster. Or relief that the headmaster seemed to be in a good mood, which meant there would not be any expulsion. 'What I would like to know, however, is why and how long this has gone on.'

'This was the first time, professor,' Hermione chipped in quickly.

'That solves one part of my question … how about the other?'

'She was having a nightmare,' sighed Harry. 'I felt her fear and came as quickly as I could, we fell asleep after she calmed down.'

'Interesting,' commented Dumbledore.

'How so, professor?' asked Hermione, blushing from the memory Harry had described.

'You say you felt her fear, Harry?' Harry nodded. 'And Miss Granger, Hermione, you were at Harry's side not long after his barriers started dissolving at once, you felt his pain, perhaps? Not to mention how Harry managed to know you were in danger before you had arrived at your house this summer, isn't that right?'

'That's right!' Hermione breathed, as though something had suddenly dawned on her.

'Well, that solves that then,' chuckled Dumbledore. 'Now, on to your conversation last night.'

'How much of it did you understand?' asked Hermione. Harry preferred to remain standing and placed himself behind Hermione.

'A great deal of it, and I must commend you on your lingual knowledge … but back to the business at hand,' said Dumbledore and folded his hands in front of his face as he leaned forward in his chair. 'What spells were the two of you discussing so secretively?'

Hermione was most definitely uncomfortable under the old man's stare.

'Spells of our own creation, sir,' answered Harry calmly. 'And we would rather keep them a secret, or more appropriately, as an ace up our sleeves in the war against Voldemort.'

'Understandable,' agreed Dumbledore, 'but for your safety as well as the school's, I must insist on seeing these spells.'

Harry sighed in resignation.

'Very well,' he agreed and raised his hand. '_Caritas Arma_!'

A brilliantly white sword appeared in Harry's hand. One could make out details, but there were no shadows or colours other than brilliant white. He held the sword vertically from his chest, causing the blade to rise in front of Harry's face, creating an ominous effect of a hardened warrior preparing for battle. He could see Dumbledore was impressed, and dissipated the sword before repeating the spell. A crossbow of similar material appeared in his hands, bolt ready to be fired at the squeeze of a finger. This is exactly what Harry did, and the bolt struck Dumbledore's desk not even an inch from the man's elbow, but left no physical mark.

'It is a weapon of similar Arithmancy construction to the Patronus, concentrating on love and speaking the spell will make the weapon of the caster's choice. It won't harm anything but evil creatures physically, but will inject a strong feeling of love and affection into any being hit, I hoped that this could destroy either Voldemort or dementors,' recited Harry.

'Most impressive,' said Dumbledore and attempted to touch the bolt that was embedded halfway into his desk, only to have his finger pass through it as though it were a ghost, but the expression on the man's face was far different than that of those that ever had the unfortunate luck of passing through a ghost. Instead of shivering in cold, a look of warmth spread on the man's face. Dumbledore turned to Hermione and watched her expectantly.

'You heard about my spell too?' she asked, already knowing the answer. Dumbledore nodded. 'I'll need a volunteer to perform it on,' she sighed.

'Providing that the spell is not lethal, I am at your disposal, Miss Granger,' stated Dumbledore and got from his seat. 'Fire away.'

Hermione nodded and stood as well, levelling her wand at the bearded man. '_Mutare Avicula Phylaca_!'

A yellow beam struck the headmaster in the chest, and the man vanished to be replaced by a cage with a canary twittering inside. Because of the man's age, the normally colourful feathers of the bird had become dull.

'_Finite_!' said Hermione, releasing Dumbledore from the spell.

Dumbledore patted himself down for a few moments before taking his seat again. 'That was a most intriguing experience,' he commented. 'How did you manage the cage around me?'

Hermione blushed at the praise. 'The spell is in two parts, one transfigures the body into a bird, the second transforms the clothing into the cage. Only the caster, or someone knowing the password could undo it.'

'And the password is as simple as that?' asked Dumbledore.

'Not really, the password was unspoken and disguised by the _Finite_,' explained Hermione proudly.

'Harry's teachings no doubt,' said Dumbledore. The knowing twinkle in his eyes again made itself present. Again Hermione blushed. 'I assumed as much, it appears as though nearly all his students are capable of casting some spells without uttering anything, bar the freshest batch, although all in good time …'

'Indeed,' agreed Harry. 'We are starting the annual lesson over new years when the missing students return, followed by the Patronus and our own spells.'

'Excellent, my fears have been put somewhat at ease,' said Dumbledore grandly. 'However, I advise you to report those spells with the Ministry as soon as possible so you will not be fined or arrested for it – the creation of spells are best left to the professionals, as there might be unpredictable side effects to developing spells. Now, I think you have some time before your morning session for your personal training session – I'll keep you no more. But, a word of advice before you leave; keep your wits about you when dabbling in spell creation.'

'Of course, professor,' chorused the two and slowly made their way to the door.

'And remember to have fun!' called Dumbledore after them, 'After all, it's the season to be jolly!'

The pair smiled and walked calmly to the Room of Requirements where they would commence their daily training.

* * *

It was one of Harry's best Christmases to his memory.

It wasn't the presents, decorations or carols usually associated with this holiday, but rather the company he kept, namely Hermione.

During one of the snowball fights that the students held, he had a repeat of the previous Christmas, and went into a tumble with Hermione, burying them in snow, but that did not matter as they were plenty warm and intimate. Ron came upon them as they were kissing passionately in the snow, and pretended to be sick with disgust and revulsion.

The other champions spent some time with Harry, Hermione always within arms' reach of Harry, theorising what the next task would be.

At night, before they went to bed, Harry took Hermione for a ride through the castle on his back in his Animagus form, bursting through shadows and leaping the moving staircases. All the while, Hermione would squeal like an excited little girl that is given a piggy-back ride.

The door to Hermione's room through the bathroom had yet to be replaced, but a system was developed so Harry wouldn't walk in during something, or Hermione would do the same. This system went against every rule Hogwarts had about seemliness and decency; they slept on the same bed, although in their normal sleeping attire, should someone enter and assume something. It had been Hermione's suggestion, although she made it perfectly clear that she did not wish to progress to the next physical level of their relationship before they were married or at least out of Hogwarts. Harry agreed completely, although his body did not, causing him to take a cold shower more often than he normally did.

The NEWTs were not forgotten, and Hermione now insisted on at least thirty minutes of reviewing every night before bed. Harry already knew they had memorised everything Hogwarts had to offer, and a very great portion of the Library as well, but they made a game of it, and enjoyed the intimate time together. Once or twice did Ginny join them, toning down the game somewhat, as she wished for a head start on her own seventh year. Ron rolled his eyes at the three of them, studying nearly six months before the NEWTs, ('How bookish can you get?')

More times than one did Ron and Luna get caught under mistletoe, or that was their story. Harry did not press the matter, as it would be meddling in other people's affairs, literally.

The same day the students returned from their holiday, Dumbledore announced the date of the next task, at the end of January. He also added that the champions should be prepared for anything.

Lessons became more interesting, in Harry's opinion, when professor Moody went on to teach things that even few Aurors knew, all because of Harry's teachings bringing results in his class. The only ones to protest were those not in the DA, as they had not gained the knowledge the DA members had.

Harry took the headmaster's advice, and spent more time in the Room of Requirements, making it simulate all kinds of creatures for him to battle, subdue or capture. Hermione was there with him, oddly enough thinking of this as quality time.

During one session where he had to kill a dragon, Harry added a small twist to the training.

He managed to slay the Chinese Fireball dragon with a conjured sword plunged into its head, causing it to crash into the ground near Hermione, and its mouth fall open. Inside the mouth was a black box, which fell at Hermione's feet. She had picked it up and opened it, gasping in surprise at the beautiful gold ring inside. It was a gold band with a gaping lion's head, and in its maw was a ruby heart. The inscription; "To my Love, Forever, Harry" was etched inside.

Harry appeared in front of her, on one knee, and took the ring out, carefully, offering it to her.

'Hermione Granger, would you do me the honour of considering spending the remainder of my life with me, even if I can be rather thick at times, and emotionally stumped at most times? I know I am not worthy of this devotion or your beauty, so I can understand it if you say no, but I would thank the heavens for each and every day you agreed to be with me,' said Harry, doing his utmost to retain eye-contact, and to keep his voice and courage steady. Hermione now held his heart in her hand, her reply would either cause it to soar in happiness or fall to the floor to be trampled on.

'YES!'

Harry had hoped for this answer, but hadn't counted on such an enthusiastic reply, and suddenly found himself unable to breathe from the combined efforts of Hermione's arms and mouth.

* * *

The month passed in a blur because of Harry's constant state of activity, and he was soon waiting in the locker room of the Quidditch pitch with the other champions again. The other champions were much more nervous than he was. The female ones had even stopped chasing him after Hermione had casually shown them her engagement ring. The news had made the Daily Prophet not a day after the event had taken place, and Harry didn't mind them printing it because it was a declaration that Hermione had chosen him of her own free will, not because of some crazy rule or threat or because of his celebrity status.

The door to the pitch opened to reveal the headmasters and headmistresses - curiously absent was the Minister for Magic - with a background of a less dense jungle.

'We'll be brief, as we know you are all looking forward to the third task, which will be the second-to-last official task of this Championship,' stated Dumbledore. 'You will face a Tebo each, slay it, and skin it. The hide will be used later.'

'As you might have noticed, Minister Fudge is not with us today, as he had more pressing matters to attend to,' stated headmistress Saijin. All the adults hid a smirk or snicker. Harry could have sworn he heard someone add 'pressing in his intestines' to the statement, and understood the Minister to be having a bad day of stomach flu, causing Harry to start a chuckle which he killed shortly after starting.

'The task will start momentarily,' finished Dumbledore and swept out of the locker room with the others, closing the door behind them.

Harry seated himself in a meditative pose and started focusing on the task ahead.

This was not going to be easy, but it would be easier than skinning a live Graphorn, despite the Tebo's ability to turn invisible.

'Would Samantha Johnson please come out onto the pitch,' requested Dumbledore's magnified voice.

Harry opened his eyes to see the glass had come to life, depicting a more sparse jungle than the last one, and with apparently older trees and foliage.

Sam made her way in, having learnt the hard way not to crash through the woods with some creature waiting for her.

Unfortunately, Sam did not predict the chance that the warthog like creature would be invisible, something she learned when something squealed angrily and ran her down. Harry could see her arm sticking out in the wrong direction, but she seemed to have some manner of luck, as her wand fired a spell that blew half of the Tebo to pieces.

Harry could see the disgusted and pained grimace Sam had on as she cradled her arm to her chest and saw her work. This grimace worsened as she remembered that she had to skin the corpse of her now very visible grey warthog. Harry also saw that she had practiced skinning curses for the task, as she managed to skin the creature despite her pain and queasiness at the disgusting task she was performing.

When she had finished, she pulled herself to the nearest bush and released the content of her stomach.

Harry winced in sympathy. Retching was not a pleasant experience, although he could only remember doing so twice, not long after Cedric had been killed, from the pain, and then again when he had the vision of Mr Weasley being attacked by a giant snake, both times he had not been completely present in mind, but it was still unpleasant.

The score; five, six, four, six and five flashed before being added to the total sum which ended at seventy-three.

Madam Pomfrey hurried onto the pitch to assist the champion off to the hospital wing to have that arm looked at, and to give her something to settle her stomach.

One or two wizards hurried onto the pitch to clean up the mess.

Bruce was next, and Harry couldn't help but remark how he always seemed to be so reckless. As he had with the Graphorn, Bruce managed to locate the Tebo, mount it and ride it like a bucking bronco, waving his bandana in the air.

After nearly a minute of fun for Bruce, he conjured a large spike in the Tebo's path, while blinding it with his bandana, easily killing the beast. The sudden halt caused him to fly head first into a tree, but he quickly got to his feet and made his way to the dead Tebo. And to make things even more disgusting, the boy conjured physical tools to skin the corpse, taking his time and showing some manner of experience in the trade.

Once he finished, Bruce vanished the corpse and cleaned the hide before wobbling off the pitch, met halfway by madam Pomfrey, whom Harry could tell started to chew the boy out immediately, using Harry as an example by listing all the times he had visited her in her wing, unwillingly.

His score of; six, seven, five, seven and five flashed before being added together with the previous scores, totalling at eighty-nine, and placing him in the lead, so far.

Kasumi was next, and showed great nerves about this as she stepped onto the pitch.

Kasumi had also learned from Sam's previous mistake, and had not barged into the jungle like a rampaging rhino.

However, as the Tebo was invisible, it caught her by surprise, but only enough for her to leap aside and sprain her wrist.

The submissive housewife attitude vanished from the girl like mist before the sun, and she fired a reductor curse at the still speeding Tebo, made visible by the clove prints it left behind. Not a moment after the curse was fired, the back half of the Tebo was blown away in a blaze of fireworks, and the rest of the carcass skid along the ground.

A queasy look passed over Kasumi's face before she determinately raised her wand and skinned the creature, then imitated Sam by having a reunion with her breakfast in a bush.

Harry winced once more in sympathy as Kasumi's score of; four, six, four, five and four flashed and merged with the total score, leaving it at eighty-two.

Ngame gave Harry a nod of recognition as he passed him to enter the pitch. Harry watched the glass as Ngame started his turn.

This seemed to be something Ngame was an expert at.

He calmly walked into the jungle, alert and ready. Harry saw the look of concentration, which also showed he was watching for the slightest sign of movement on the ground.

Suddenly the boy dove out of the way and fired a blinding hex at seemingly empty space.

A grey warthog appeared in the air, shaking its head furiously as though trying to shake off the hex. A quick cutting curse decapitated the Tebo before another attempt was made, and set about skinning the still warm corpse with the same casual attitude that Bruce had, not using magic for anything but making tools until the skinning had been done.

The steaming carcass of the Tebo was vanished once the job of skinning it had been finished, and held the cleaned hide and the Tebo's head on a spike up in triumph.

Harry watched the boy's score; eight, nine, nine, eight and nine added to his total score which now reached one hundred and seven.

Privately, Harry applauded the hunter for being the only one not to get injured in this task, and for performing it so professionally.

'Harry Potter.'

Harry got up at the sound of his name, and calmly went outside.

As before, the inside of the pitch was as silent as the grave, something that would have unnerved him in the past, but at the present, he relished in it.

Having thought of a plan of action, Harry raised his wand, and slowly started an incantation.

His senses of magic stretched out around him to chart down every single shape around him for several hundred metres. It was slightly surprising to "see" that Hermione had forgotten her underwear today, but he returned his attention – with great difficulty – to the here-and-now, seeing that mist emerged from his wand, and blanketed the pitch so thick that if he were to hold his hand before his face, it would not be visible until it was nearly touching his nose.

In the mist, Harry could hear the annoyed and desperate squeals and grunts of the Tebo. One or two thuds and rustles told him, by sound alone, that the invisible beast had banged into several trees and through some shrubberies, his "sight" told him that the Tebo would tear itself apart in its mad dash through the jungle if he didn't stop it, and it would diminish the value of his hide.

Set in his mind, Harry dashed at the beast, dodging trees and leaping shrubs expertly, heading directly at the Tebo.

What little sound he made had caused the Tebo to recognise his location and it seemed a strong believer of the saying of "the only good defence is a strong offence" if its determination was anything to go by.

Ten feet from his target, Harry launched a vertical and low cutting curse while leaping into the branches above.

Once he was high above, Harry "saw" the curse connect with the Tebo, effectively slicing through it completely, leaving only a thin piece of hide holding it together along the spine.

The corpse of the Tebo continued forward, for a moment unaware of its own demise before its innards started falling out and everything split, as the corpse tumbled and skid on the ground.

As the final spasms of the Tebo ceased, Harry dropped to the ground and set to work, skinning the beast of as much hide as he could get. The innards, muscles, bones and cartilage was disposed of not long after the skin had been parted from the body. The inside of the hide was then cleaned of gore and blood.

Once finished, Harry stood, and dissipated the mists, leaving a clear view of him as he walked out of the jungle thicket.

He looked towards the teacher's box and saw the numbers; nine, nine, eight, nine and nine appear in the sky above them, before reforming into the number one hundred and twenty-one.

It came as a shock to him that he had that many points, as he hadn't bothered to remember his own score.

'Yes, well done, all of you,' Harry suddenly heard Dumbledore declare. 'The next task, although it is and unofficial one, is to use the hides collected to make clothing out of. Be original and practical, because you will need the protection the clothes will offer during the final task. You are of course allowed to use other material in the supplementation of the creation of your new clothes, but you will have to use the hides you have acquired. The final task will be ready by the beginning of April, and be prepared for anything.'

* * *

Harry did not waste time in getting to work on his next unofficial task.

The moment he returned to Gryffindor tower, he had started transfiguring the two hides into a mix of yarn and the two components.

He used Hermione's teachings of knitting to form the yarn into cloth, and the cloth was sewn and altered to become a turtleneck shirt and loose trousers with gloves, mask and boots to match. All of it black. If he put on a pair of tinted swimmers' goggles, not an inch of skin would be visible.

'Sexy,' Harry turned and saw Hermione eyeing him like a cat eyeing a canary in and open cage with a saucer of milk inside with it.

'That wasn't what I was going for,' Harry admitted, glad the mask was covering his face, 'but thank you all the same.'

Harry had been wearing the clothes to see if they fit, in the other case, he'd make the necessary alterations. It seemed to be a second skin and didn't restrict a single movement, yet it was not tight below his waist, and was thereby hiding the part of the male anatomy that females of his species usually looked at. The boots went halfway up his shins, and were held closed by a thread of the same material that the rest of the outfit was made of.

Hermione sauntered inside and wrapped her arms around him, letting the rest of her melt onto him. Harry could nearly have sworn he heard her purr.

'Have you decided what you want to do once you finish here?'

The question was one that Harry had asked himself several times.

'No, not yet,' he admitted. 'You?'

'I had planned on becoming an Auror, same as you,' she admitted, Harry could nearly feel the blush. 'But after the display during our Astronomy OWL, I wouldn't work for the Ministry if it paid all the money in the world.'

'That also leaves out Healer, Unspeakable and Ministry Employee,' added Harry.

'Quidditch is out,' continued Hermione. 'I'm not good with heights, and you're banned … not to mention the public attention is something I imagine you wouldn't want to have, even if you already are famous.'

'And we aren't exactly fit for raising animals,' added Harry, 'which makes breeders another miss.'

'We aren't comfortable enough to be in the public all day, so shop-keeping is also out,' continued Hermione.

'And although teaching is fun and rewarding, I wouldn't want to do it full time …'

'That rules out taking over as Potions Mistress and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor,' sighed Hermione.

'We could always take Muggle jobs,' suggested Harry.

'Not with the education we have,' interrupted Hermione, 'we'd need to take equivalency tests and get higher education for that.'

'That could be easily solved, if we put our minds together,' chuckled Harry. He remained silent for a moment, but suddenly started chuckling to himself.

'What's so amusing?' asked a worried Hermione, hoping he hadn't cracked.

'I just had an image of myself dressed as that movie archaeologist that always tried to outwit the Nazis,' he chuckled. 'Imagine, me in tan brown shirt and pants, whip in one hand and revolver in the other, hunting treasures, dodging traps and staying one step ahead of the competition.'

'Why not?'

'Excuse me?'

'We could work for Gringotts, as curse breakers, we could double as archaeologists in the Muggle world to cover our tracks,' explained Hermione.

'Not a bad suggestion,' agreed Harry. 'I seem to have friends in Gringotts, and we already know Bill, he could put in a good word … not that we'd need much of that …'

'But we do need someone to teach us proper protocol for Curse Breakers,' argued Hermione. 'Bill will do just fine, as long as you don't pick up any clothing and accessory habits from him …'

'Then it's settled,' finished Harry. 'I'll send Hedwig off to Gringotts with a letter of application for a job, and a request for instructor.'

Hermione folded the mask up Harry's face just enough to be able to kiss him properly.

'That's one less thing to worry over,' she sighed and led Harry to the table of their common room where their books were ready.

* * *

Time passed quickly with all the activities Harry was part of.

He and Hermione spent Valentine's Day alone in the Room of Requirements, having a romantic meal interrupt their intimacy every now and again. The whole day had been a day off for the DA, something some of the students appreciated, as they still had OWLs, exams and NEWTs to study for, and with their hectic schedule, a day of studying was not easy to come by, and they had other subjects to study apart from Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The fourth and final task arrived before Harry knew it, and suddenly he and the other champions – all clad in their personally produced clothes - were led in a different direction than the pitch.

The variations of the outfits was as different as night and day.

Kasumi, a proudly dutiful girl, was very talented in mending and making clothes, and her charms work left little to be desired. Her traditional pale kimono was not decorated with much in the way of patterns, and she had confessed that she wore more practical clothing underneath so she would have her modesty concealed in case of a movement her clothing had not been meant to be exposed to. She had gotten the same idea as Harry, mixing the two hides into thread, but had chosen silk in favour of wool.

Sam, who did not have much material to work with had obviously had difficulties in transfiguring the hides into different forms, and the result was a pair of shorts that were incredibly snug, along with a top, both in a light tanned colour that nearly blended with her skin, leaving incredibly little to the imagination. The quality of this miniscule outfit was visibly poor, and Harry hoped for her sake that she had used sticking spells on the seams to keep it from falling apart when she moved.

Bruce appeared to have as much of a fashion sense as he had common sense, and had on regular clothing, and had only made a new bandana out of the hides.

Ngame had made a pair of long shorts with decorative flaps in front and back, and the blended hides had been stretched over a few sticks, making a shield not all that unlike the native African ones. The front of his shield was decorated with and angry face. On his feet he wore moccasin like shoes, as the ground was not yet warm enough to go barefooted, even for native Britons.

Harry wore the outfit he made, but kept the mask – which had now been equipped with tinted goggles through the eye holes – in his hands so his face was seen, and so no one could accuse him of hiring someone to do the job for him. There should be no doubt of his identity.

Harry recognised the setting from the Triwizard Tournament, and instantly knew what they were facing.

The five champions were led to a tent where Fudge was waiting with a very familiar bag in his hands.

This bag was held out.

'Come on, pick one,' the man exclaimed impatiently as he did a funny stationary jig. Apparently, his bowel problem had either not gone away or resurfaced.

The champions reached into the bag in the order they had entered.

Kasumi reached in first and pulled out a miniature dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback.

Sam then pulled out a Chinese Fireball.

Bruce pulled out a Hebridean Black.

Ngame then pulled out a Swedish Short-Snout.

Harry reached in, now knowing that there were dragons about that they had to face, and grabbed the remaining dragon statuette. A Hungarian Horntail. The tiny thing grinned mockingly up at him from his hand. The thing lacked a number, which meant the order was already determined, and if the previous tasks were anything to go by, they would go out according to points, low-to-high. This meant he would be last.

'Good,' sighed Fudge, 'now you just wait here, your bridles are placed outside the tent for you, and you will emerge when called for, you will have to fit the bridles onto your selected dragon to finish the task, style and time makes your score, now if you'd excuse me!'

The podgy man raced out of the tent so fast that his bowler nearly fell off in the wind resistance, if not for the fat hand holding it in place.

The headmasters and headmistresses smirked knowingly as they watched the shrinking figure of the British Minister for Magic.

'Good luck,' chuckled Dumbledore as he herded the other adults out of the tent, heading for the stands.

Harry sat down on the ground in a meditative pose and placed the figure of the Hungarian Horntail before him.

The others paced the tent, or rather, Sam and Kasumi huddled together in a corner and tried to calm down for what they would be facing, while Ngame and Bruce paced the tent.

Sam was shaken from her shivering by the booming voice calling for her.

This time, there was no glass to look through, and there was no silencing spell in place to shield the noise, making each roar and shriek audible. Harry remembered this same scene taking place three years earlier, but unlike that time, Harry was now prepared to battle, subdue, or evade nearly any creature he had read about. Still, there was a small amount of nerves that decided to make themselves known.

Compared to the past months, time now passed excruciatingly slowly. The roaring of beast and crowds was heard clearly, and it wouldn't surprise Harry if Muggles could hear it somewhere on the other side of the forbidden forest or over the mountains that surrounded this area.

A short pause in the din coming from the arena caused the other champions to look up, waiting for either frightened gasps or –

A roar of applause and cheers nearly deafened the four after the short pause.

Kasumi squeaked as her name was called, and walked out the tent opening in the same manner as condemned prisoners "walking the mile."

Not long after, the roar of the new dragon was heard over the excited cheers of the crowds.

Harry centred himself, and battled his will to extend his magic to "see" what was going on in the arena. That would be cheating if the headmasters and headmistresses had decided to keep the glass plane out of the tent, and he didn't want to cheat.

The din quieted for a moment –

Gasps were heard plainly immediately after the screech of a dragon. Harry thought he heard something else, but waved it off.

A scattering of mild applause followed along with worried conversation, of which nothing could be discerned, signalling that Kasumi survived and was somehow getting out of the arena.

This wasn't good. All the champions had been able to finish their task before, if they started losing now, it meant there was something more difficult than anticipated. Harry could see the nerves more visible on his fellow champions' faces.

Bruce actually looked slightly green as he answered the call of his name and exited the tent.

Harry tried carrying a conversation with Ngame in his native tongue, but the din of the arena drowned it out. However, they managed to hear each other for long enough to make it known to Ngame that Harry spoke his language, something he seemed excited about, as that thrice damned translation spell sometimes translated wrong, due to the parameter set. The spell was not meant to translate idioms or sayings so they would make sense, no, it only did its job of translating directly, which most often jumbled up the order of the words.

A loud gasp of sympathy was followed by a screech of victory.

Harry gave Ngame an encouraging wave as he answered his call.

He was now alone in the tent, and the nerves were starting to make themselves better known.

It felt like his insides were trying to escape through his mouth, and the taste of bile made him feel ill.

This was all very natural, considering that he was about to face a dragon, and the type of dragon that was reputed to be the most vicious of them. And this time, he had to come up close to it, most likely without the aid of a broom. With his luck the Horntail he faced last time spread the word and they all now held a grudge against him.

No time to lose your head, Potter, he thought to himself. Not everyone is out to get you.

No, just Voldemort and all his followers, he retorted. Great, I'm arguing with myself. No one will question my insanity if they found that out.

Harry was not looking forwards to his turn, but who would when faced with a grown dragon that most likely would do anything to maim or kill them?

A loud cheer announced that Ngame had finished.

'Harry Potter.'

As Harry stood, he felt his stomach settle, and his determination taking over.

With mask in hand, Harry strode confidently out of the tent and with his free hand grabbed the bridle left outside, before entering the open gates of the arena.

On the other end of the arena, a huge Horntail was sitting, waiting, and eyed him much like an insect was viewed by a toad.

The only positive thing Harry could manage to find, was that the Horntail wasn't nesting, which meant it wouldn't be as defensive.

Slowly, Harry pulled on the mask, and hefted the large silver bridle onto his back. This was not for effect, as some might have assumed, no, he was attempting not to make any sudden moves that could startle the dragon into action before he was ready.

There was a glint of recognition in the Horntail's eyes.

'Oh, bugger,' groaned Harry as he realised that this was not only the same species of dragon as the last time, but actually the same one. This was bad. He could have sworn the over sized lizard was grinning at him.

The doors behind Harry had just closed when a jet of fire was shooting at him.

Not wanting to become a living bonfire, Harry jumped aside. He could feel the heat through his clothing, but the Graphorn hide in it protected against the damage the heat would have caused. He now understood the reason for the production of this outfit. It was to act as a form of armour.

He had to dodge another jet of flame shortly after, convincing him that this was no time for musing.

This game of dodge, which drew nearer the dragon for each turn, continued for a short while, until Harry saw one jet he could not avoid. Instead he braced himself, using every skill he possessed as a shield so he'd at least survive.

The crowds gasped in terror as the Boy-Who-Lived was enveloped in flame hot enough to melt stone upon direct contact.

As the flames ended and the Horntail was about to shriek in victory, everyone were shocked to find that instead of a charred spot, there stood Harry as whole and unscathed as before the flame hit him. The magic shield flickered out of existence, and Harry looked up at the dragon, slightly miffed at the delay which now had cost him precious time.

Not wanting to have another delay, Harry raced directly at the dragon.

Now the battle was too close for the Horntail to fire its flames, so instead, it started batting at him with her tail, and swatting at him with her clawed arms.

Harry, who had his skills and magic to back him up, dodged, ducked and leapt over the sharp appendages. He had steadily advanced at the dragon during the clawing, dodging, thrashing and swiping, and on a pass of the spike covered tail, grabbed hold and started climbing along the dragon's spine, using the fact that it could not reach as an advantage.

The Horntail was thrashing like mad, and attempted to roll over and squash him, but the spikes lining the spine and the hard ground created a space between the body and the ground, enough of it for Harry to hide in as he climbed up the back of the dragon, using his skill and magic to cling onto the hide and spikes.

The Horntail coiled its long neck in an attempt at dislodging Harry, but it was for naught. Harry clung to the dragon like a wandering birthmark, slowly crawling up towards the head.

Once Harry reached the top, he used one hand to steady himself, and the other to execute a throw that would hook the bridle into the gaping mouth while remaining attached to the reins in Harry's hand. Unfortunately, the dragon had realised his plan, and was doing her best to dislodge, swipe or buck him off.

Three tries were needed to get it right, as the two first had to be aborted before even starting.

The moment the bridle was secured, a saddle appeared just behind the dragon's head, but not long enough down the neck to be vulnerable. The long horns at the top of the Horntail's head would help shield against attacks if he was under fire.

'Well done, young one.'

Harry leaned back in the saddle and held on to the reins, looking about for the source of the voice.

'I have not had a rider before,' the female voice continued, 'and neither has my kin for several generations. No wizard or witch has ever managed to mount one of my line without the aid of others. You have indeed changed since the last time we met … for the better, I'd say. And so – it would seem – does your mate.'

Harry was astonished as he discovered that he had been sitting on the source of the voice. The Horntail was speaking with him.

'Yes, I speak,' the Horntail snickered, which was a very disturbing thing when her form and size was taken into consideration. 'Serpents aren't the only ones who speak Parseltongue, all reptiles do, just varying languages and dialects of it just like human tongue. Yes, I know much of you, young Harry Potter. One of our keepers at the reserve is quite fond of you, one would think he was your brother, but his hair was red. Told me all about your adventures, although he probably never thought dragons are smart enough to understand. Apparently, the keepers get very lonely and start conversing with anything that moves to keep the ability alive.'

'Really?' asked Harry. 'Charlie talks about me to dragons?'

'Indeed,' agreed the Horntail. 'And that you did not return spells for fire proves your nobility. My young and I thank you for not using the only known weak point we have.'

Harry was glad his face was covered in a mask, as he hardly ever handled praise well.

'What do I call you?' he asked after getting himself back under control. 'It's not like I can just call you "Dragon", can I?'

'No, my name is Barbed Tail, or just Barb for short if you'd like. I have learnt how frustrating humans find it with long names.'

'OK, Barbie, what happens next?' asked Harry, deliberately making the nickname more familiar.

Barb seemed annoyed at the change, but remained calm.

'I will lower my head for you to climb off,' she said, 'and I will forever be in your service. If you are ever in need of me, call my name. And there is no way to change my mind about it.'

'Let's get to it then,' sighed Harry.

Barb lowered her head to the ground, and waited for Harry to dismount.

'Thank you,' he added as he once more stood on firm ground.

'It has been my pleasure, young one,' chuckled Barb. 'I will do my utmost to assure that no dragon gets involved in the coming war, as a thank-you for sparing my children three winters ago. We dragons have a bad name because of a few bad eggs, it is time we rectified it by not joining any sides at all.'

Harry pat Barb's muzzle and walked off towards the exit.

The now docile Barb rose and roared a command, which was returned by dragons outside the arena. The audience was obviously not at ease with the roaring dragons, as shrieks were heard mingling with the roars.

Not many seconds after having started his walk, Harry was once more bowled over by Hermione.

Harry wasn't bothered by it, nor did he care about his score, as his whole concentration was centred on a pair of brown eyes hovering above him.

Whatever Hermione had planned on saying remained unspoken as he felt his mask pealed back and soft lips touching his.

The pair were suddenly lifted into the air and turned ninety degrees so they were upright before they were placed on the ground.

The other four champions gathered next to the still kissing pair, although all of them had some manner of burns on their exposed skin, and the two that did not manage their task were half unconscious and in wheelchairs, wrapped up in bandages. Their headmasters and headmistresses gathered behind their champion, and photographers from all over the wizarding world gathered in front of the group to take pictures as the Minister for Magic hurriedly distributed medals and trophies.

Before Harry and Hermione gathered themselves from their kiss and senses their surroundings, the photos had been taken, and everything had been awarded. At Harry's feet stood a trophy that reached his chest, and hanging from one of the two handles on the sides was a gold medal. Both medal and trophy declared that Harry Potter was the World Wizarding Champion, the best of his generation.

'Mr Potter, a word, please!' called several reporters, in varying phrasings of the same sentence. 'How do you feel at this moment, having won the World Wizarding Championship, one of the most prestigious awards and competitions in the wizarding world?'

Harry didn't much want to answer, something Hermione must have sensed, so she replied for him.

'I'm sorry, but _Mr Potter_ and I have to study for our NEWTs, which is right around the corner, if you'd excuse us,' with that, she pushed her way, and Harry's as he was still being clung to, through the throng of reporters in the direction of the castle.

The reporters that had just been brushed off chuckled or giggled at the obviousness of her comment, before scribbling down something.

* * *

In the Trophy room of Hogwarts, a new trophy was erected on an honour spot.

This was Harry's trophy, which he felt selfish for keeping, so he donated it to his school. Not many students bothered to visit this room to view the former glories of the school, so there was no reason for accusing him of doing this to show off, although Malfoy still attempted to convince everyone of it.

Harry didn't care about the rumours that Malfoy was attempting to spread, and merely contented himself with carrying on, teaching, studying, reading, working on his spells, and spending intimate moments with Hermione.

The visitors had not yet left, and weren't going to leave before the end of the year, so the guests that had joined the two duelling teams were greatly looking forward to the competition at the end of the year, nearly as much as everyone else.

The article printed the day following the task, stating that the Greatest Wizard of the Generation was being kept on a short leash, did not bother Harry one bit, as he had authorised it, feeling that it was time something came out about him that was not flattering, but not insulting either. And the leash bit hadn't been long or the main part of the story, so everything was fine. Hermione's face coloured slightly from this article, but she didn't exactly complain about it.

The NEWTs passed startlingly easily for Harry and Hermione, although Hermione couldn't stop complaining about that one answer she knew she had gotten only half right. It was one of the traits Harry found adoring about her, her ability to be displeased with herself even after probably getting the best score recorded. Harry knew of one or two slips he had done during the tests, but he kindly didn't mention anything for fear of Hermione's wrath or sympathy. He wasn't even certain that the examiners had noticed his slips.

The week prior to the NEWTs, Ron was shaking answers to his questions out of any student above fifth year that unwittingly wandered within reach, and after the week of exams were over, collapsed in a common room chair, groaning and bemoaning his inability to recall much of anything.

Harry still chuckled somewhat the time between their exams when an unfortunate first year had crossed paths with Ron. The poor boy had gotten fifteen points deducted for breathing too loudly.

The competition between the Duelling Club and the DA ended very poorly for the Duelling Club, even considering that the terrain had no places to hide. Apparently, the only thing they learned from last year had been not to stand still for too long, and to weave between their own members to keep from being hit. The entire thing didn't even last one minute before the last Dueller fell, and not a single DA member had fallen once.

After that competition was over, Harry passed the mantle of captain of the DA over to Ginny, as Luna – who had been the first choice – declined the offer. Ginny promised not to let his work go to waste, and that she'd use the manuals he had left in her care to teach the others.

That night, Harry witnessed the crating of his statue of Hermione with a lump of nerves, hoping that it wouldn't fall and break.

The House Cup was awarded to Gryffindor because of the lack of a biased Head of Slytherin to award points to his house without reason, and deduct unjustly. The Great Hall was once again decorated in red and gold banners, along with the Defence Association banner.

The farewell to the other champions was somewhat emotional, as they had all gone through some tough things together – in a way.

* * *

Harry suddenly realised that he was on the Hogwarts Express, with Hermione cuddled up to him, Ron and Ginny bickering about something or other with Luna leaning against Ron, and Neville nursing a cut that his toad Trevor had gotten.

He had no idea how things had passed so quickly. It seemed only yesterday he was heading back from Hogwarts after watching Sirius fall through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. At that time, he had been alone in the world, and thought he had no hope. Now, he had a fiancée, a title as the best of his age, allies within several magical races and creatures, more skills than he had dreamt possible a mere two years ago, and the future looked brighter than the sun.

For now, he sat back and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being near the woman he loved, having her rest her beautiful head against his chest and her delicate fingers, slightly callused from thumbing through books, writing with quills and the training he had put her through, play with the breast pocket of his shirt. He felt like a cat that had found a nice warm beam of sunlight, or a snake that had found a nice flat and warm rock. He stood in danger of falling asleep, thus was the level of his comfort.

The group enjoyed themselves greatly, and Hermione took it upon herself to treat them all to candy when the old witch with the lunch trolley came by.

Harry found it curious that Malfoy had yet to grace them with his presence, and a chill running up his spine told him that it was not a good thing.

It was getting dark when the train arrived at King's Cross. It was not much of a twilight, but then again, summer was just starting and it would grow lighter during the night for still a few weeks before the process reversed.

Harry took his and Hermione's trunks on the same trolley to save them the trouble. After all, the Grangers had been moved to Grimmauld Place for their own safety at some time during the year, and that very same address would be Harry's home as well until he could get a job and find a house of his own.

He and Hermione emerged on the other side of the barrier, and were careful to act as though they hadn't just walked out a brick wall.

The advance guard appeared shortly around the two, and the other four of the teenage group arrived not long after.

In the advance guard was none other than Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shacklebolt. There might have been others about, but these were the visible ones.

'Come on, Harry, best get a move -'

Lupin got no further before a red bolt slammed into Dung, sending him into a sprawled heap.

This one act unleashed hell on earth, or so it would seem to the poor Muggles that were caught in the middle of a wizarding war.

Death Eaters appeared all over the station, and a sudden chill signalled that Voldemort had found a way of Summoning dementors of his own.

A yell alerted Harry to the appearance of DA members, and they soon spread out and returned fire, just as rehearsed in the Room of Requirements. He felt rather proud as he witnessed the cool and collective commando tactics they employed in this battle. The Death Eaters seemed very intent on killing Harry, a fact that was proven by a shower of green spells that were nimbly dodged by all but the unconscious Dung who was lucky to be lying on the ground, or he'd have been hit by the spells that zipped by at pelvis height.

Harry and Hermione danced about the flying spells with ease, and fired them back at impressive speeds and accuracy.

Unfortunately, it seemed that for every Death Eater that was transformed and removed by either Dobby or Winky, three took the missing Death Eater's place.

Five minutes into the fight, during which more Muggles had died from spells hitting them or near them than there had been casualties during the entire three years since Voldemort had returned to his body, dementors started pouring in, staying along the walls of the station to suck up the high emotions running about the battle.

Harry dove away from a reductor curse and fired an arrow of his spell at the nearest dementor, and was rewarded by an unearthly shriek. He quickly looked and saw the arrow sticking out of the dementor's chest, and light was pouring from the open wound. The chest of the creature swelled and started to develop cracks that glowed of light before exploding into a shower of dust that vanished before touching the ground.

Satisfied with his result, Harry continued to leap over a bone crushing hex, returning Hermione's creation to the Death Eater that fired it.

Not wanting to cause more damage to innocents than necessary, Harry decided to play a game the Death Eaters would not expect of a fellow wizard, and closed in on them before starting to fight them hand-to-hand, breaking wands, collar bones and legs to keep them out of action for the duration of the battle.

Some of the other DA members saw this and followed his example, with varying degrees of success. Denis Creevey took a reductor to the chest as he attempted to dropkick a Death Eater that was hovering over a few confused Muggles, and fell never to rise again. Harry had witnessed the boy's chest burst open and sprayed a good portion of the platform with his own blood. The Muggles had fled, so at least his death wasn't for nothing.

While the battle progressed, several trains exploded as a result of errant spells, and Muggle authorities started to appear, despite the Aurors that started arriving to hold Muggles out. There were just too many Muggles to hold back, and the Death Eaters were too many to spare more than a few to redirect Muggles. The results were that crazy reports were sent through radios, and soon heavily armed soldiers started appearing, and fired at the masked menace, only to have their bullets miss or malfunction in ways they weren't supposed to, as many who had their weapons turned into chickens experienced before being hit with killing curses or other equally lethal spells.

The battle raged ceaselessly for hours, and Harry hoped the world would never witness such carnage ever again, and would rather it never had.

Quite suddenly, Harry's scar flared in heat and caused agony similar to the Cruciatus curse. It was very sudden, and would have caused him to get hit with a cutting hex if Hermione hadn't jumped in front of him and taken the hit.

Harry concentrated on his Occlumency shields for a moment, and saw Hermione fall to the ground in a limp pile. Had he not known she was wearing protecting spells that worked against just those relatively harmless spells, she would have been killed by it, he would at that moment fallen over her in tears for the lost future.

'Tut tut,' chided a high pitched voice behind him. 'Such foolishness love will drive people to do.'

Harry turned to see Voldemort surrounded by nearly a dozen dementors. Anger flared within him at the sight of the man who was to blame for the deaths of thousands.

'I see your girlfriend sacrificed herself for you, how noble,' the serpent like man sneered, spitting out the word "noble". 'Just like your parents.'

'Tom,' Harry could see he had struck a nerve by calling the Dark Lord by his given name and gleefully continued, just to inflict more pain to him. Or at least he could annoy the old geezer by delivering a corny speech while Hermione gathered her wits and energy from being hit. 'You wouldn't know the first thing about why people sacrifice themselves, because the only thing you care about is yourself and your own power. Just because you have a large amount of magical ability doesn't mean you are better than others, I've known squibs who were better than you. And just because you were abused by Muggles as a child, doesn't mean you have the right to commit genocide against all without magic. I was raised in a similar manner to yours, but I didn't wish revenge upon the world that wronged me, but I pity them for being so small minded as to try and destroy what they do not understand.'

'Enough! Crucio!' bellowed Voldemort, having gotten a bit flustered as Harry spoke.

Over the past couple of years, as Harry worked on making spells, he had discovered a few interesting things about the unforgivable curses. They were all mental attacks. One convinced the victim that doing this and that was right and good so why not do it? Another convinced the mind that it was in severe pain from all and every direction and on all body parts. The third convinced the mind that it was dead, causing it to shut down. He had discovered it quite by accident, but he was amazed with the consequences this would have.

As the curse impacted against the stationary Harry, Voldemort watched in anticipation of the pained screams that he knew would come. However, the snake like man did not expect Harry to remain standing unaffected by it. Not even a single muscle twitched spasm from the curse.

'Was that supposed to hurt?' asked Harry with a very evident patronising tone. Mentally, Harry was reinforcing his Occlumency shields against the still active curse that was banging on the castle gates, so to speak. This was the positive outcome of his research; that he discovered the use of Occlumency to block out the three curses. As the curses were sufficiently draining to the caster, Harry's plan was to keep the shields erect and weaken his target before striking swiftly and hard.

Sensing he was wasting energy, Voldemort ended the curse.

'What deals have you made with the Devil to be able to resist this curse?' demanded Voldemort.

'I have made no deals, but I have developed a few spells on my own,' said Harry with a calm that seemed to even surpass Dumbledore, although inside, he was keeping track of every single movement in sight and a few outside his sight. Hermione had slowly reached within her jacket where she kept the modified gun Harry had given her. 'Have a taste,' he added and fired a round of bolts at the dementors surrounding Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was surprised to find his guards explode around him.

'We both know that there is no way that the two of us can duel properly,' sneered Voldemort after taking a moment to gather himself. 'We'd be forever locked in a Priori Incantem, so why don't you just surrender now and get it over with?'

'You have a point, Tom, but I will not be an easy kill,' as he said this, Harry ducked out of the way of a cutting hex that a Death Eater had attempted to cut him down with, thinking it would be easy when Harry was distracted. 'I have been in all sorts of training since we saw each other last, Riddle. Even the members of the Department of Mysteries would have a hard time taking me down.'

Harry felt Hermione lift the gun and shoot the attacking Death Eater with a reductor bullet.

'Let's dance, Riddle,' growled Harry as to draw attention from Hermione.

Nearly all activity in the station ceased as soon as those words were uttered, and near all concentration was focused on the two.

Voldemort was not pleased at how casually Harry was treating him, without even the slightest ounce of pain, fear or sadness, and accepted the challenge, summoning the wand of a deceased follower of his to his aid in a duel against his wand's brother.

To those not fighting, the scene was terrifyingly spectacular.

The two powerful opponents were dancing about each other's spells, curses, hexes, jinxes and dummy targets.

What surprised most was that Harry seemed to run away for a moment, before he seemed to run into a wall, disappearing.

Some thought this was a hidden barrier again until Harry emerged from behind Voldemort at full speed, ploughing the elder wizard down with speed and strength.

Voldemort was enraged and shot curse after curse at Harry, and barely managed to erect a shield in time to stop a curse from the real one, as the decoy dissolved upon being hit.

By now, harried looking teachers from Hogwarts had started to appear, many sporting some lingering effects of curses, convincing Harry that this was not the only battle that had taken place. They soon saw the severity of this battle, and erected an anti-Disapparation field over the London district to keep anyone from running away.

When Dumbledore arrived, the tides turned for the battle surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord.

Harry was starting to get annoyed with Voldemort and made a decision.

CLANK! Clink! Clank!

The simple sound of wood being dropped on hard ground halted all movement in the station.

All turned to see that Harry's hand was outstretched and his wand was on the ground.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters grinned in victory as the killing curse sailed at Harry like a green rocket.

Their victorious grins turned upside down and their jaws dropped when the green flash died down and Harry remained unscathed.

Harry's hand, still outstretched, pointed at Voldemort.

'Delecto Simpiterna Captio!' chanted Harry, focusing on Hermione and the happy times they had spent and would spend together.

A ball of golden white light formed between Harry's cupped fingers before shooting like an arrow through the air and impacted against the hastily erected shield Voldemort had cast.

For a moment, it appeared as though Harry's spell did nothing, until a few small sparks started appearing at firm spots in the air and ground surrounding Voldemort, forming a bubble with the radius of an automobile if one looked carefully enough. These sparks grew thin arms that reached for their neighbours, forming a net of pentacles and pentagons.

Even Voldemort himself stopped his actions to witness this happening around him in curiosity.

The dementors that had been, shied away from the golden white net as though it was a bonfire that suddenly had a gasoline soaked stick of dynamite thrown into it.

Harry rapidly shot down the fleeing dementors with his spells before turning his attention to Voldemort.

'This is how the wizard known as Voldemort will end,' said Harry as he approached the cage. 'This is a spell I devised to kill hatred and evil creatures. There is no escape. Any attempt, any sign of struggle will result in the removal of one spark, which will cause the cage to shrink gradually, tightening.'

Voldemort growled and pointed his wand at Harry.

No one ever found out which curse was used, as the wand was torn from Voldemort's grip and flung onto the ground outside the cage.

The incensed Dark Lord tried to reach out of the cage for the wand, but retracted his hand while howling in agony. Harry felt a slight twinge in his scar, and noticed that some of the Death Eaters briefly clutched their arms.

Nearly unnoticed, the cage shrank slightly.

'Did I forget to mention that the cage is made of the one thing you cannot stand?' asked Harry, as though he was asking about the weather. 'The one thing you cannot touch without burning, the thing that burnt Quirrell, and I do not mean my mother's protection. It is the one thing you do not understand, and my spell was designed to either destroy or convert the hateful creatures trapped within, and not even your spirit will escape this purgatory.'

Not bothering to concern himself with Voldemort any longer, Harry walked over and kneeled by Hermione, who had by now passed out from exhaustion. He could feel that she was fine, albeit a little sore across the stomach where she was hit.

The net around Voldemort tightened slowly for each second, as the megalomaniac was not about to give in so easily.

The inhuman shrieking and howling that issued, and the smell of burning flesh spread all over the station, causing those who had not fallen to retch.

As Harry was brushing away Hermione's hair from her face, a sudden surge of pain from the scar caused his world to turn black.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

_The Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World, married._

_Yesterday, Harry Potter, the man who rid the Wizarding World of the Dark Lord no more than five years ago, married his Hogwarts sweetheart; Hermione Granger._

_The pair disappeared from the Wizarding World not a week after the final battle, which took place not only at King's Cross but in Hogsmeade, the French Ministry of Magic, the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, the German Ministry of Magic, and the Russian Ministry of Magic, and were not heard from until yesterday. Their friends did not reveal anything, and Gringotts refused to reveal the location of the young couple, or if he had stopped by for money._

_Invited to the wedding, were the Weasley family – Ronald, keeper for the Chudley Cannons, and his wife Luna, editor of _the Quibbler_, Fred and his wife Katie, George and his room mate Alicia, co owners and employees in the Joke shop; Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, Bill, Curse Breaker for Gringotts, and his wife Fleur, Translator and ambassador in the Ministry of Magic, Charlie, dragon keeper, and his co worker Bettie, and their parents Arthur, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department, and Molly, homemaker – the Longbottoms – Neville and his wife Ginny and their son Harry – Minister for Magic, Sirius Black, Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin – also functioning as a liaison for the werebeasts at the Ministry of Magic – the Hagrids – Rubeus and his wife Olympe, both half giants and employed as Care of Magical Creatures professors and Groundskeepers._

_The only press invited was the editor of _the Quibbler_, who supplied the _Daily Prophet_ with photographs, Luna nee Lovegood._

_Also invited were members of some magical creature clans, such as the vampires, and the werebeasts. Some unidentified wizards and witches were also present, but judging from the appearance, they served as security._

_Apparently, the happy couple spent these past five years taking equivalency tests and getting a doctor's degree in archaeology (Muggle field of study, archaeologists travel the world in search of cultural and historical treasures to share them and theories of ancient civilisations with the world). It is also rumoured that Gringotts has given them freelance jobs as Curse Breakers._

'Harry! Hurry up or we'll be late!'

Harry looked up from the yellowing paper clipping in his hands, and at the closed door of his and Hermione's home office as it opened, he thrust the clipping into the open drawer so it would not be found.

In came a woman with short cropped brown hair and a summer dress in soft blue.

'How many times are you going to read that old clipping?' asked the woman in a sigh as she leaned against the doorway.

'Until I can't read it any more, and then I'll repair it and hang it on the wall,' replied Harry without hesitation. The years had fared well with the two of them. At age thirty-four, the pair of them didn't look a day over twenty.

'You're incorrigible,' sighed Hermione. 'We have to get going, or Lily will miss the Express and we will have to reveal the truth to her ourselves by taking the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade. And -'

'- and after keeping her in the dark all her life, we would be on the receiving end of a ranting to end all rants instead of letting her throw her tantrum at Hogwarts and cool down before we get a letter from her,' finished Harry. 'I was just getting nostalgic,' he added. 'Seems like only yesterday that we first stepped onboard the Express for our very first year.'

'Ssssh!' shushed Hermione. 'She'll hear!'

'Mummy! Daddy! Hurry!'

Harry got from his chair and joined his wife in the hallway, where an eleven year old girl with dark red hair in a bushy ponytail stood with her, arms crossed and green eyes scowling at him.

'Right, I'll take the trunk,' said Harry hurriedly to bar any scolding.

'Mummy will be driving!' called the girl, 'You drive too slow, daddy, and I want to go to this school and learn magic!'

'Lily, the reason mummy drove fast last time was because daddy had broken his leg and was bleeding,' Harry explained.

'But this is more important!' argued Lily. 'You could have fixed that leg on your own with those natural remedies you always use.'

'OK, lily, mummy will drive,' sighed Hermione and opened the door of the car.

'Wait! I forgot Heddie!'

Lily sprinted back to the house, only to return with a cage containing an owl, primarily white but with black and brown specks.

Harry still had descendants of his loyal Hedwig close by. Hedwig had made a nest in the tree in their back yard, and one of her children had taken it over once she died of old age five years earlier. Heddie was the grandchild of Hedwig, and by some coincidence, Lily thought to call the owl Harry had managed to "capture" for the nickname version of the same name. In reality, Hedwig's offspring were as friendly and obedient as herself, and after a few moments of asking nicely, Hedwig's daughter had agreed to allow him one of her daughters to become Lily's pet.

Harry cooperated with the females, and took the backseat, so he wouldn't be in the way of the Mother-Daughter bonding that was taking place, and contented himself with watching the world about them.

Not long after, they arrived. Nearly an hour had passed, but Harry had been so involved with the view that they passed, so he didn't really notice the time until the car stopped at a parking house not far from King's Cross.

At the doorways of the station, a plaque had been erected, listing the names of those who had died in the "Terrorist Action" that had taken place seventeen years ago. No terrorist factions or countries had taken responsibility for the incident, and thus had never been cleared up or revenged. The Ministry of Magic had to pull any employee they had from other places to manage the memory charms for all the Muggles that had been there, convincing them that it had been an act of terrorism, and explosives had been used to blow up the trains, and all that. Those that had died without a scratch on them had been explained away with an experimental weapon that had been stolen, based on lights to shut down the brain. One of the larger craters was told to be where the brave police had gotten a shot in and blown the weapon up, not leaving a single trace of it. This happened to be the very same spot that Voldemort perished in a blaze of phoenix like fire. Nearly half the station had to be rebuilt from the battle, which said something about the seriousness of the war.

'Another generation for Hogwarts,' sighed Harry as he watched their daughter hurry through the barrier as instructed on her ticket. They would have followed, but for all intents and purposes, they were supposed to be Muggles and not able to pass through.

'At least we'll be able to explain things to her by Christmas,' comforted Hermione.

'By then we'll have to tell her not to tell her baby brother about us,' added Harry and patted Hermione on the stomach as he embraced her from behind. 'Four months along and hardly showing, you must be the envy of all women,' he teased.

'I have all the confidence in her,' said Hermione confidently. 'I just worry about how she'll react when she finds out that her parents saved the world.'

'Look at it this way,' said Harry in a placating tone, 'several things will be explained to her by that simple fact; the statue in our garden, those "natural remedies" we always use, and finally; how we always seem to know when she is planning some sort of mischief. It is just the reason why we put on this charade to begin with; so our child wouldn't start off with a swelled head like Malfoy, and so that she would not start off with the opinion that wizards are the best, and to give her skills to survive after her education. We agreed to it, and we are about nine years too late to end it now.'

'You're right, love,' agreed Hermione in a sigh and leant back into him.

Harry nodded as he and his wife watched the bricks where their daughter had gone through after hugging them quickly. It was now one past eleven, and the Hogwarts Express had departed.

'Come on,' said Hermione suddenly and twisted herself out of her hubby's arms before grabbing hold of one and pulling it. 'We have the house to ourselves for the first time in eleven years, and I plan on taking full advantage of the time before little James comes along to spoil it in a few months.'

Grinning sheepishly and happily, Harry let himself be dragged.

'No need to hurry, we have at least a hundred years before we pass away from old age,' he laughed.

'No, we'll hurry and live now while we're still young enough to enjoy it,' argued Hermione, positively bubbling with anticipation.

'Lead on, love,' Harry agreed after a moment of chuckling.

This is the meaning of life, thought Harry as he was driving back to their two storey house in the northern outskirts of London. To be born, find love and make that love grow into a new life that is the very embodiment of that love, and watch it grow and create love as well, and when you have seen love born a few times, you pass on to the next great adventure.


End file.
